Crash Boom Bang
by Steppenwoelfin
Summary: PreHBP. After Voldemort's downfall, Dumbledore offers Harry the DADA position at Hogwarts. A matured Harry accepts the job only to encounter detested Severus Snape. Is it too late for reconciliation...or for...more? Snarry fic. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: Coming Home

**CRASH BOOM BANG**

A/N: The title is taken from Roxette's beautiful song "Crash Boom Bang".

The characters and universe in this story do not belong to me; they belong to J.K. Rowling.

Plot: Pre-HBP, post OOTP, but contains a few points from HBP. With the help of the Order the Phoenix and of his friends, Harry managed to defeat Voldemort in his seventh year. He has just turned 18, wondering whether he should become an Auror or a professional Quidditch player when Dumbledore offers him the DADA position at Hogwarts. There is one person who prevents him from fully enjoying what was always a home for him. Severus Snape. Or is there still a chance for them to lay aside their differences? Dumbledore is strangely optimistic…Involves a karaoke bar in Hogsmeade, a pyjama party when Harry turns 19, sparks between Harry and Severus (I'll try to keep them both as much in character as possible) and other things…And just because Voldemort is dead, it doesn't mean his Death Eaters are gone or all in prison. Don't like gayness and/or Snarry, don't read. Otherwise: enjoy and please submit your comments so that I can improve my writing and the plot. Forever yours, The Nostromo.

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**CHAPTER 1**

"It sounds great, Harry, but you must be the youngest teacher any wizarding school has ever employed." Hermione Granger said, flabbergasted. She and Ron Weasley (who were at last a couple) were studying the letter Hedwig had delivered to Harry Potter. It was a sunny day in the Burrow, and the trio was relaxing in the kitchen while the rest of the Weasley family (Arthur, Molly and Ginny) hurried around doing their individual chores.

"Come on, 'Mione, Harry has a lot more experience where the Dark Arts are concerned than the average wizard," Ron pointed out.

"Yes, I know. But teaching the seventh-years…Why, Harry will be teaching people who are nearly his age!"

"I'd go ahead if I were you, mate," Ron said to Harry, ignoring his sceptical girlfriend, "and it's not as if Harry's not had teaching experience. Dumbledore's Army, anyone?"

Hermione still looked unsure.

Harry got up and stretched.

"Wonder how Snape will react when he realises that I'll be his colleague."

"Ha! So you're accepting the post?" Ron screeched. Hermione rubbed her ear pointedly.

"Yeah. I am."

"What about being an Auror? You have the necessary N.E.W.T.s and it's what you've always wanted," Hermione asked.

"I haven't completely dismissed the idea. There are still Death Eaters out there. On the other hand…I'd be able to pass on my knowledge and experience to younger witches and wizards, prepare them for what the world outside…I think I can do that better than if I were an Auror. Who knows, if I lose my job at the end of the year like all the previous teachers have done, then I may be able to leap into action myself."

"Now that Voldemort is dead, the curse he placed on the job is gone as well," Hermione reminded him.

"Know-it-all," Ron remarked affectionately.

"Won-Won," Hermione said casually.

"Krummiekin," Ron whispered.

"Ah, shut up, you two," Harry said, amused.

"This has to be celebrated," Ron shouted, punching the air.

"Yeah, how about if we nip round to my place and have a party in two days? Everyone's free on Saturday evening," Harry suggested.

As a consequence, there was a huge and raucous party at Grimmauld Place that night. Fred and George hurried over after closing their joke shop for the day, equipped with articles bound to grab everyone's attention. Remus Lupin, too, was present, making everyone laugh with his subtle sense of humour. After Voldemort's downfall, the house had finally been made fit for human inhabitation. The portrait of Sirius's mother had been unstuck from the wall with the united force of the Order. The Order members had not only succeeded in removing the picture but also in blasting an enormous hole in the wall where the portrait had hung. Phineas Nigellus had sulked for a month until the damage was repaired. However, his displeasure had been fanned anew when the wall was decorated with a giant picture of the Chudley Cannons. The rooms contained elegant mahogany furniture which smelt pleasantly of polish, and the walls sported enigmatic arty pictures (Dumbledore's contribution); there were special perches for the owls in the ceiling corners of the room, and the floors had carpets of red and gold. A spacious games room stocked with Wizard and Muggle games kept everyone entertained for hours. The library was easily the most impressive part of the house, packed with books chiefly selected by Dumbledore and Hermione.

The party went till two in the morning and would have gone on for longer if Mrs Weasley, fed up of the racket, had not stamped down the stairs like an enraged Hungarian Horntail and, with the mere power of her vocal cords, successfully chased everyone into bed.

The next day, another owl arrived for Harry, telling him what he required as a teacher and that he had to choose books which the pupils would have to buy for their DADA classes.

"I bet you didn't think of that," Hermione said bossily as Harry jogged into the library, clutching the parchment in his hand.

"Wonder why you didn't get the job offer. _You_'re the teaching type," Harry replied, annoyed.

"I'm perfectly happy with my job," she said brightly.

Hermione worked for the Ministry of Magic as a diplomat, negotiating magical contracts and agreements between witches and wizards from all over the world. She was also involved in setting up a S.P.E.W. foundation. Ginny, who was interested in working for the _Daily Prophet_ as a journalist and was about to start her seventh year, helped her with advertising and communicating the foundation's statutes and aims. She was much calmer about the whole thing than Hermione tended to be. Ron, in the meantime, was training to join the Chudley Cannons. As had always been the case, Quidditch remained a delicate topic between him and Hermione.

"All this dangerous and useless competition, it's-" Hermione would prudently stop at the look on Ron's and Harry's faces.

The day came when Harry had to leave his friends and go to Hogwarts – on the Knight Bus. Although it was not his first time on the vehicle, Harry simply could not get used to all the bumping and bouncing around. Still, it was part of all the fun, and his good mood increased when the village of Hogsmeade approached with roughly the speed of light.

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	2. Chapter 2: Familiar Faces

**CHAPTER 2**

What a strange feeling it was to enter Hogwarts in the afternoon, knowing that it would be packed with students later in the evening. That, and the fact that he, Harry Potter, would be sitting at the staff table with the eminent Albus Dumbledore and other wizards and witches – his former teachers, all of them years older than he was – were starting to give him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was still a teenager, after all, and this was a big step for him. The surroundings were familiar and yet completely defamiliarised. The whole situation seemed as unbelievable as the time Hagrid had told him that he, an eleven-year-old little boy bullied hourly by the Dursleys, was a wizard. The Dursleys. How happy they had been to see the back of him on his seventeenth birthday.

"Harry Potter is back! We was dying to see Harry Potter!"

Harry grinned widely.

"Dobby!"

The house-elf beamed at him. He was wearing one of Mrs Weasley's jumpers (maroon), a jarringly green tea cosy on his head (tipped at a rakish angle) and odd socks, one blue, the other yellow.

"Professor Potter!" he squeaked.

Harry went a bit red.

"It sounds so odd…Professor Potter. I'm simply…Harry."

"So modest he is!" Dobby raised his hands to heaven in an expression of epiphanic realisation.

Harry laughed.

"Let me show the Boy-Who-Defeated-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named his quarters, spotless and thoroughly aired out, brand-new furnishing…"

Harry had to nearly run to keep up with his enthusiastic friend.

His office and adjoining rooms were of huge dimensions and made him blink a few times in rapid succession. Wooden furniture with intricate carvings, a gigantic four-poster bed in the bedroom, a bathroom which was even more chic than the one the prefects enjoyed, small pictures of magical artefacts on the walls, herringbone parquet, lush Persian carpets, a fireplace, an enamel bowl containing Floo powder, tons of shelves for his books, cupboards and commodes en masse, a gleaming perch for an enthusiastic Hedwig…

"Wow!" he breathed.

Dobby hovered anxiously near him.

"Is everything to Harry Potter's taste?"

"Dobby, this is absolutely smashing. Amazing. Overwhelming."

The elf broke into a triumphant screech and scooted out of the office, hooting down the corridor and singing Harry's praises at the top of his voice.

After unpacking and dressing for the Sorting Hat Ceremony and following feast, Harry left his fascinating rooms to see whether he would meet a familiar face before attending the official business.

He was strolling along a corridor when he suddenly got the impression of being watched. He turned around and found himself facing none other than his enigmatic nemesis, the Potions Master Severus Snape.

Black hair, longer than ever, reaching till the small of his back. The oiliness coating the thick strands gone after Voldemort's downfall, the teeth white, but the cynicism still carved in his face, the unhealthy thinness still there together with the trademark sneer. And the hooked nose, radiating arrogance and disdain for the world. The thin lips ready to emit a caustic utterance. Not a handsome man, but not altogether lacking in appearance either. Overall, he looked rather forbidding because of his surliness.

"Potter." Silky smooth voice, subtle and soft, just like the way he moved.

"Snape." Expressionless tone. Green eyes and black eyes probing each other, Snape's dislike and frostiness evident. But Harry had matured a lot. He had been forced to do so, what with having Voldemort as an enemy and working together with skilled adult wizards besides his faithful friends Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the rest of the DA. Working with Snape, doing so reluctantly, never really trusting him.

"Well, well. What a pleasant surprise." Scornful curling of the lip.

"Ah, there you are, Severus and Harry."

The two wizards interrupted their eye-battle, directing their attention towards the majestic headmaster, who, with his usual lightning-fast perception, had summed up the tense situation within a second.

"Now, my dear boys. You fought against Voldemort together. I am sure you will be able to live together in the same building as well," Dumbledore observed mildly.

Snape's face remained unchanged.

"I am going to strengthen the wards around my quarters. If you need something from my store cupboards, Potter, it would be a good idea to ask instead of helping yourself liberally without permission. But then, it may be not be such a good idea at all."

He strode away with a sour sneer.

Dumbledore stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Ah, Severus, Severus," he murmured. Harry remained silent. He had mixed feelings about the former Death Easter and everyone's most despised teacher.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear boy," he addressed Harry courteously, putting his arm around the young man's shoulders.

"It's wonderful to be back here, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Professor? Albus, Harry."

Harry smiled.

"I'll always have a lot to learn besides teaching."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily.

"Excellent attitude, Harry. I think that the students will be arriving any moment…Let's go."

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	3. Chapter 3: Getting Settled

**CHAPTER 3**

A/N: Dear all, I am sorry that the chapters are short. I am currently signing up for my Master's exams at University, writing seminar papers and doing translation jobs, so I am very busy. One of you remarked that the story was a bit clichéd. I am assuming that this is due to Snape's appearance. However, there is a reason for this. You'll soon find out more :-) I wish to thank my pal Esther S. most cordially for her idea with the karaoke bar. You rock, Esthi!

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It was with the strangest myriad of emotions that Harry Potter sat at the staff table on Albus Dumbledore's left side while Severus Snape was ensconced on the right, his mouth thinning whenever he happened to catch sight of Harry. The young man smiled as the terrified first year students were ushered into the Great Hall. Seven years ago, he himself had been submitted to the ordeal of being sorted into Gryffindor House in front of all the probing eyes. Professor McGonagall, looking as stern as ever, began to call out their names. Once the Sorting was over, Dumbledore rose to hold his customary welcome speech during which he also announced who would be in charge of the Defense against the Dark Arts position.

Harry must have been the first teacher to be greeted with such thundering applause. There was hooting, appreciative whistling and even stamping of feet from the older students. Harry got up, inclined his head and hastily resumed his seat with burning cheeks and an embarrassed grin. Dumbledore beamed. Snape looked as if he was going to throw up. The other teachers looked amused, and Hagrid, broad and jolly as ever, winked at him. It was the best homecoming Harry had ever experienced, and when he was finished with the feast, he was ready to drop on the floor and fall asleep at once. However, he stayed behind to exchange some hearty words with Hagrid and some of the other teachers, who were now his colleagues.

"Professor Potter, innit?" Hagrid bellowed, embracing Harry in a crushing hug.

"Not to you, Hagrid," Harry gasped. News about Grawp (who was accommodating slowly but steadily to wizarding life) and Olympe Maxime (who visited Hagrid regularly) was exchanged until Harry could not stifle a gigantic yawn any longer.

"Off ter bed, Professor Potter!" Hagrid ordered, slapping Harry's back.

Harry sleepily strolled away to his enormous but cosy quarters, crossing Severus Snape who was heading for his lonely rooms in the coldness of the dungeons.

"I trust you won't be doing any…sleepwalking tonight, Potter," the Head of Slytherin remarked.

"Neither will you, I'm sure," Harry said. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"As insolent as ever," he murmured, "just like your father."

"I'm sure glad I never knew _your_ father," Harry answered quietly. They both knew that he was referring to what he had accidentally seen during his disastrous Occlumency lessons in his fifth year. They also knew that Snape could no longer deduct house points or put Harry into detention. Professionally, they were on an equal basis. Snape first paled, then flushed before striding away, his back stiff with anger.

"Why on earth do you have to go out of your way to be unpleasant to people? Treat them the way you want to be treated, for heaven's sake, man!" Harry said to himself softly, shaking his head. It was great being back at Hogwarts, but he was just going to have to put up with Snape's snide and even downright cruel disposition. He still managed to enjoy a quick shower and an excellent sleep in his luxurious bed.

Breakfast started with a good meal and an interesting piece of information.

"Have you heard of the new karaoke bar down in Hogsmeade, Harry?" Professor Sprout inquired.

"Hogsmeade has a karaoke bar?" he asked, intrigued, ignoring the numerous glances the students were directing towards him. Some things simply never changed.

Dumbledore turned his head towards him.

"Yes – it just opened three weeks ago, my dear boy. It's called En_chant_ments. It has various sections, too. The Gothic section and the Romantic one, amongst others. The Romantic one is subdivided into further categories. You'll see if you're interested in taking a look. Even Severus likes going there, though he seems oddly reluctant to admit it." Dumbledore smiled mysteriously in his beard and sipped his pumpkin juice pensively.

Harry made a mental note to only go to the bar when he was sure that Snape was in the castle, though it would be extremely difficult to locate the whereabouts of the headstrong Slytherin. Without a certain map, that is.

"Well, the students will have something new to look forward to," he remarked.

"Only those who are seventeen and above – the place is restricted to adults," Dumbledore said regretfully, cutting a piece of sausage.

Harry began to feel mightily intrigued about the bar. Snape or no Snape, he was going to have to check it out on a weekend, when he had time to leave the castle in the evenings.

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	4. Chapter 4: Enchantments

**CHAPTER 4**

Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. His very first DADA lesson was due today. First-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. He nervously tried to smoothen his hair, but of course this only made it untidier than ever. He took a deep breath and opened the door to his classroom. No sooner had he stepped in when a girl in the back row gasped. Others stared at him with eyes the size of saucers and yet others had their mouths opened as if submitting to a dental examination.

"Good morning, class," Harry greeted them in his most professional-sounding voice. He picked up the roster from his desk.

"Now before I start with-"

"Sir, is it really true that you defeated You-Know-Who single-handedly?"

"Sir, is Peeves right about you marrying Moaning Myrtle?"

"Sir, I believe you and Professor Snape don't get along very well, is that true?"

Harry raised his hand and cleared his throat.

"I would not have been able to defeat Voldemort without the invaluable help of my friends. Second question: I regret to say that I have no nuptials whatsoever to look forward to with Miss Myrtle, and as for the last question: you may want to ask Professor Snape for answers."

His tone, although mild and humorous, had enough authority to quell any further questions.

"Now – the list."

He read out the names, and each student flushed with pride on hearing his or her name pronounced by Professor Harry James Potter.

By the end of the lesson, Harry was exhausted but pleased with himself. He had another lesson later on that day – Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. He had been anxious about this class due to the presence of the Slytherins. Small as they were, they eyed him warily. One Slytherin girl immediately asked him if he was a pureblood. Harry put her smartly into place, explaining that such personal questions were considered rude and that the distinction between pureblooded and muggleborn witches and wizards was old-fashioned, discriminating and in need of serious revision. Next, a breathless Hufflepuff boy asked him if he was indeed the owner of the legendary kettle of Nackledirk. Harry gravely denied any knowledge and existence of such an object and commenced with the lesson.

He was on his way to the Great Hall for dinner when a tremendously nervous Gryffindor boy from his first class stuttered out that he had asked Professor Snape about the dislike issue. Professor Snape had referred him to Professor Potter for an answer and threatened him with detention if he asked any other "imbecile" questions.

"Let's put it this way, Philip – that is your name, if I recall correctly?"

The boy dropped his books and nodded vigorously, eyes shining.

"Well, Philip – some questions are best left unanswered."

The boy looked rather disappointed.

"You must be hungry after your first day of school. Run along for dinner now," Harry smiled, levitating the books back into the boy's arms. Philip stammered out his thanks and scurried off to the Great Hall.

All in all, Harry's first day of teaching was a success, and by the end of the week, his combination of humour and firmness was much appreciated by the students, and he got on well with all the teachers except for Professor Trelawney, whom he avoided as much as possible. She had greeted him by informing him that he would not only have twelve children but also marry the same number of times. And, of course, there was Snape, who made a point of casting him frosty glances at every opportunity. The only thing remaining for him to do (besides correcting students' assignments and preparing for next week) was to visit the En_chant_ments bar. He mentioned his intentions to Dumbledore, who told him that he would need a password.

"Password?"

"Yes – you require a password to gain access to certain restricted areas of the bar."

"And what is the password?"

Dumbledore smiled benignly.

"You will be given the password once you have sung a song of your choice on the stage."

Harry swallowed.

"Sing a song?"

"Yes. It is rather challenging, isn't it?" Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Especially since one is expected to sing the song by heart if one wants to get the password."

"Do you happen to have the password?"

Dumbledore's eyes glinted roguishly.

"I do, my dear boy. But I won't tell you what I decided to sing."

En_chant_ments was a huge bar, to judge merely from the size of the door. Harry went over the words of the song he had chosen in his mind. Surely he could sing a song after all the tasks he had accomplished? A group of young witches hurried in front of him and opened the door. He quickly followed them inside. A security wizard in silvery robes was standing at the entrance, checking them with his wand.

"Sixteen, sixteen…fifteen. Out you go. Under-age witches and wizards are not allowed," he said in a bored tone. Grumbling, the witches left. It was Harry's turn.

"Harry Potter, can it be?" the wizard shrieked, his bored tone forgotten, poking Harry rather painfully in the ribs with his wand due to his enthusiasm.

"Uhm, well, yes," Harry said sheepishly, handing him the required entrance fee.

"Eighteen, sweet eighteen…so honoured that you are visiting here…You'll be wanting a password, won't you?"

"Yes, I'd like one."

"Oh, splendid, splendid! People are going to flock to their seats when they hear that Harry Potter is singing tonight!"

Harry was ushered inside eagerly and guided around by the wizard who had quite forgotten that he was supposed to be at the entrance, where a long queue had formed. An exasperated witch wearing formfitting pastel pink robes hurried towards him.

"I will show him around, you go back to the door, Nervosus," she addressed Harry's guide, who promptly rushed back to the entrance, flapping his hands up and down in a gesture of apology. The witch flashed Harry a smile and grabbed his arm.

"Now, my name is Madleina," she started breathlessly, "and this is the actual karaoke bar."

Harry was half dragged to a huge hall with tons of chandeliers and tons of multi-coloured tables and chairs.

Music bars floated around, playing the melodies they depicted softly before fading away and whizzing up to the ceiling. There was a huge platform with playback equipment, and a microphone (which was crooning to itself) with a stand.

"This hall leads to two main sections, the Gothic one and the Romantic one. However, you can only access the latter if you have the password. Then, there's a room dedicated to spiritual music – Wizarding music from the seventeenth century till today's modernised sounds – and a room for Muggle music devotees. Oh, and finally, there's the Naughty Lyrics chamber…You know…raunchy lyrics…also requires a password," Madleina informed him.

Harry was intrigued to see that the Gothic room contained framed quotations from Edgar Allan Poe's writings ("Do you know that he was a wizard in real life, Mr. Potter? Of course, the Muggles have no idea of that."), green fluorescent spiders weaving webs in the air and eerie Gregorian chants mixed with doleful scraping violin music wailing away in the background. The occupants in this room were drinking a neon-green liquid called the Gothic Punch, and Harry was sure that he had seen a poster advertising the upcoming performance of a band called the Gothic Gargoyles.

The Muggle music room was very pleasant, as was the spiritual room. The bathrooms (Madleina stood discreetly to one side in front of the Men's) had speaking toilet seats and taps.

"For hygienic reasons," the witch explained delicately as a tap yelled:

"Come back here and wash your hands, Dirty!"

His head spinning with the first impressions of the karaoke bar, Harry was courteously led back to the main hall which was completely packed by now. Madleina steered Harry onto the stage, pointed her wand to her throat with a muttered "_Sonorus_!" and, to his horror, announced loudly:

"En_chant_ments is delighted to welcome a new prospective member. Witches and Wizards, please applaud for none other than the one and only Harry Potter! He will be giving us a song in a minute!"

Screams and yells broke out. There were dull thuds as some people fainted and the tinkling of breaking glass as drinks were knocked over. Harry's throat was dry. He tried to look calmly at the audience. A man occupying one of the tables at the very front caught his attention.

It was Severus Snape, his long hair flowing smoothly down his back, dark eyes smouldering, a mocking smile on his lips.

Dumbledore was right. It was going to be rather challenging.

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	5. Chapter 5: Gaining Entry

**CHAPTER 5**

Madleina nudged Harry as he stood on the stage, mentally preparing for the ordeal before him.

"You may want to remove your robes – you've got, er, trousers on underneath?" she giggled.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, embarrassed. He removed his robes, revealing blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt – nothing special; but the witches in the first few rows immediately began to make sounds of deepest appreciation.

Harry moistened his lips nervously. He had given Madleina the compact disc ("Oh, a Muggle sound recording medium, wonderful, we don't get that many of those!") with the playback music, and he saw her dart over to the playback equipment and drape his robes neatly over a chair. He could feel everyone staring at him, including Severus Snape. He took a deep breath. The music started. Cheers went up in the audience – obviously, The Beatles' cover version of _Twist and Shout _was well known even among the Wizarding people. Harry raised the microphone to his lips. He was going to show Snape what he could do. Glaring for a moment at the sneering Slytherin, he started yelling out the lyrics at the top of his voice. Madleina, who had retired to the edge of the stage, began to clap in accompaniment, and Harry, wondering from where he was getting such courage, began to sway his hips along to the rhythm; and when he reached the "you got me goin' now" part, he jerked them strategically. The witches began to screech, and something that looked suspiciously like a set of witch's robes sailed onto the platform.

"…and let me know that you're mine!" Harry shouted.

"WE'RE YOURS, YOURS, YOURS!" the audience echoed back, including the wizards.

People were jumping up and down on the floor; cameras were flashing and smoking, and Harry was starting to enjoy himself immensely.

Towards the end of the song, Harry looked back into Snape's eyes, dancing with all his strength on the platform, singing out boldly:

"You know you twist, you little girl, you know you twist so fine! Come on and twist a little closer, now, and-"

"-LET ME KNOW THAT YOU'RE MINE!" the audience shrieked back at him with the exception of Snape, who was looking furious, though this may have been due to the fact that a witch behind him had just misaimed and flung her robes at the back of his head.

As soon as _Twist and Shout_ ended, the audience stumbled to their feet and gave him a standing ovation. More things flew onto the stage, including several letters, some more clothes, shoes and other tokens like singing plush hearts, necklaces, boxes of sweets and moving photographs begging to be signed and sent back to their respective owners.

Madleina emerged and clapped him on the back.

"Was that good enough for you folks?" she hollered.

"YES!" the onlookers roared. "GIVE HIM THE PASSWORD!"

Snape stood up and left the room.

Madleina beamed and handed him back his robes and a piece of round metal embossed with a music bar crossed diagonally with a wand. There were letters on the rim.

"It's a pass-coin now, we changed the system only yesterday," she revealed to him, "and those letters spell out the password – it's "love potion" right now. It changes every two months and will update itself automatically so you can enjoy visiting the whole bar. Just make sure you don't lose it. You will receive the latest news, events etc. via owl post. Well done, Mr. Potter. Simply amazing. We're delighted to have you as a member of our bar."

"Thanks," Harry laughed. "I was really nervous, actually."

"Nervous? Mr. Potter, I thought that after killing You-Know-Who, you would not be nervous about anything."

"Oh no, you're quite mistaken, and do call me Harry," Harry said, and Madleina looked deeply impressed by his genuine modesty.

"Uhm…by the way…You wouldn't recall what Mr Snape sang?"

"Mr Snape? Oh, he didn't sing. He played the piano instead. He is a very accomplished piano player, and he has complete mastery over the harpsichord as well. He didn't seem at all enthusiastic about singing and asked about alternatives, such as playing an instrument. I think it is an excellent idea, we could offer people the choice between singing or simply playing an instrument, but Nervosus says it wouldn't be a karaoke bar anymore but a concert hall, and the founder is inclined to agree."

"Who founded this place, by the way?" Harry asked curiously. Before Madleina could answer, a witch with pink hair walked over to them, nearly tripping over a potted plant which shrank back in alarm.

"Wotcher, Harry!"

"May I introduce you to the founder of En_chant_ments, Mr. Potter, er, Harry?" Madleina said.

"Tonks? This is your bar, then?" Harry exclaimed. Tonks inclined her head in acknowledgement.

"Yes – Tonks the Auror. You were also involved in the final battle against You-Know-Who, weren't you?" Madleina sounded breathless again. Tonks blushed a little.

"Yes, I was."

"Wow, I knew you liked music, but you never told any of us of your plans," Harry said slowly.

"Well…A Metamorphmagus is bound to surprise people," Tonks beamed. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Cool bar, Tonks. It rocks."

"Glad you like it – Albus contributed generously as well."

It explained a lot, Harry thought with a huge grin.

Madleina piped up in an official manner:

"A locker has been automatically allotted to you together with your membership, so you will find all the gifts from your fans inside it. You can access your locker with the pass-coin. The locker is in the locker-room which adjoins the main hall."

Madleina excused herself, wished him an enjoyable time as a member of the bar and jogged towards the entrance to show the next visitors around, leaving him in conversation with Tonks.

"This pass-coin system reminds me of Hermione's solution to the communication issue between the members of Dumbledore's Army," Harry remarked.

"It was Hermione who told me about it and I asked her if I could borrow the system. She also came up with the idea to use it as a locker key. Her credits are written on the back of the coin. Brightest witch I've ever known," Tonks said admiringly.

Harry flipped the coin over.

"Conceived and approved by Hermione Granger," he read out. "She must have been delighted."

"She was. Until I told her about the restricted sections…"

A rustle of black robes made them both turn their heads.

"Swimming in self-glorification after enlarging your fan-club, Potter?" Snape remarked acidly. "These were obviously meant for you. They were thrown at my head by one of your frantic fans."

He unceremoniously dumped a witch's spangled purple robes into Harry's arms.

"I think Harry was brilliant, Severus," Tonks said coldly to him.

"I beg to differ on that point," Snape replied smoothly.

"You…you were watching me too, Tonks?"

"Of course. I was disguised as a hag, I was somewhere at the back of the audience."

Snape brushed past them haughtily and disappeared in the crowd.

"Grouchy fellow…Anyway, I'm sure you'll want to explore the other rooms now that you've got the password," Tonks reminded him.

"Oh yeah, I'm going to start now."

"You can give me those robes, I'll take care they're put inside your locker. Enjoy," Tonks said, waving at him and gliding away with the spangled robes. The seam of her own robes caught on a branch of the potted plant and she was forced to stop and disentangle the cloth. Harry chuckled. Delightfully clumsy and innovative Tonks.

He decided to explore the Romantic section, wondering idly why it was restricted. At the Romantic section, he was confronted by what looked like a heavy iron gate with a slot for the pass-coin. Harry inserted his new coin. The gate flashed all the colours of the rainbow in rapid succession, emitted the first majestic chords of Beethoven's fifth symphony and slowly moved upwards, disappearing into the ceiling.

Harry entered.

---

A/N: _Twist and Shout _was covered by The Beatles; it originally belongs to Phil Medley and Bert Russell.  
Beethoven reference: Ludwig van Beethoven, Symphony no.5 in C minor, op. 67, Allegro con brio.  
Thanks a lot for your very encouraging reviews so far!


	6. Chapter 6: Confrontation

**CHAPTER 6**

Harry retrieved his coin which was lying in a basin on the other side of the gate and started exploring.

The Romantic section was enormous. A small map was stuck on the wall, clarifying which room was which. Harry raised his eyebrows as he read the names of the rooms: _Wizard's Blizzards_ was one, _Which Witch_ another; and the one in which he was standing was most appropriately called _Amortentia._ He had been afraid that it would resemble Madame Puddifoot's, but he was reassured on this point. Casual wizarding music was playing. There was no evidence of hearts or other kitschy stuff. The place was quite crowded with people. A witch with glossy brown hair and interestingly cut robes was rushing about serving the customers. The skirt of her glittery silver outfit was diagonally cut, the hem reaching just above her right knee to descend to the shin of her left leg. She was wearing strappy high-heels, and the heels changed colours continuously just like the gate through which Harry had entered. A silver sash was tied around her waist, and the sleeves, tight on the upper arms, hung loose upon her forearms. The other waitresses were similarly dressed, except that the colours of their robes and sashes were different, varying from neon-blue to creamy-pink. The wooden tables were round and highly polished, the chairs very comfortable with velvet upholstery. One wall, Harry discovered, was dedicated to an art exhibition which was changed every month. Looking at the pictures, he realised why the section was restricted. This month's exhibition was entitled "Flirting with your feet" and sported three large animated canvases all displaying the same sitting – a pair of legs, one a witch's, the other a wizard's, underneath a table-top.

The last canvas left nothing to the imagination – the feet seemed rather entangled and the shoes mixed up. Harry rubbed his forehead and backed away hastily.

"That's nothing," a passing waitress said to him, "next month's exhibition will deal with hands."

"Thanks for the warning – uhm, how do you know what's on next month?"

"New member, eh? You'll receive the information via owl post," she said over her shoulder, levitating three trays of what looked like pink butterbeer with her wand.

"Is that butterbeer?" he inquired.

The waitress actually smirked.

"Yes – spiked with our very own aphrodisiac, hence the colour. Said to work wonders, according to the very positive feedback we've received so far."

She and her trays continued their route, leaving Harry to ponder whether he should consider aphrodisiacs as implements of the Dark Arts or not. He assumed that a certain amount was still within the wizarding law. A glance at his watch told him that he would soon have to return to Hogwarts. He therefore resumed his tour of En_chant_ments by deciding to get an impression of _Wizard's Blizzards_. Odd name, he thought, as he was greeted by another gate. He activated his pass-coin, was once again saluted by Beethoven's majestic tunes and scooped his coin from out of the basin on the other side. The room didn't look much different from the preceding one; but there were only wizards attending to the clients – very chic young wizards indeed, with black sparkly open robes and tight pants and tops of the same colour and texture. One of them, Harry noted with interest, was wearing an earring. He had seen plenty of wizards and Muggle men with earrings before, but this sighting reminded him that he would like to obtain an earring of his own one of these days. He would check with Dumbledore to be on the safe side – maybe an earring would be considered too provocative at Hogwarts. One never knew.

Most of the customers were men, and there were only about three or four witches present. Harry's attention was drawn by a few pictures on the walls. A wizard in a gilded frame flashed him a saucy smile and stuck his thumbs suggestively into the waistband of his tight black trousers. As Harry watched, he swayed his hips nonchalantly – what Harry himself had just pulled off on the stage of the karaoke hall was nothing compared to this.

"The aphrodisiac is in the other room, Cutie," he informed Harry, strategically tossing back his long hair. Harry actually blushed and avoided scanning the walls in case he was distracted again. He wondered if Dumbledore had had anything to do with decorating the interior of the room. So this was the wizarding equivalent of a Muggle gay bar, he supposed. He had never seen the inside of the latter, but now he had been fortunate enough to get a glimpse of the former. He could easily guess at the target clientele of _Which Witch_. He smiled. Tonks, a modern and open-minded witch, had definitely thought of everything.

There was a vast room further inside, shut away from _Wizard's Blizzards_, and a spacious part of it was dedicated to the reading pleasure of visitors from _Which Witch_ and _Wizard's Blizzards_. Harry's jaw dropped. Gay wizarding and Muggle music…and quite a substantial amount of books. Harry grabbed one of the intriguing volumes and opened it.

It contained gay art by various wizards and witches. Harry spent a few minutes studying a beautiful picture of two wizards sitting serenely on a bench with their hands interlocked. A picture of a wizard combing another wizard's hair impressed him equally. Other pictures were sultrier, portraying same-sex couples in more intimate but very tastefully painted activities. He made a mental note to borrow the book the next time he visited the bar. Another book contained a compilation of essays on the rights of gay wizarding people through the centuries; and yet other books were works of fiction devoted to the subject of wizarding homosexuality; plays, novels, short stories, poetry etc. Next, he picked up a magazine entitled _Witch-Watching_. It was obviously for women, he decided after a few pages. There were interviews with famous lesbian witches and sections dealing with topics such as "coming-out of the week" or "bewitch your witch". Smiling, he tucked the magazine away in the rack and focused upon _Wizard's Whims_. According to this publication, homophobia was strong among wizarding people who considered themselves pureblood. There had, for instance, been an attack on a gay wizarding couple only two weeks ago. Fortunately, the couple had managed to Disapparate to safety, but not before they had identified one of their attackers as a "pure-blood". Harry's face was grave. He sat down in one of the chairs provided for reading and mused over his own sexual issues. When had it started? Or when had he noticed his attraction towards men? A secret crush on a fellow-student or someone in the year above him when he had been around seventeen; and when he had discovered himself looking at Remus Lupin in a way which could only be called "checking out someone", he had started to think. For now, it certainly did not seem likely that he would have twelve children in the so-called traditional manner. So far, he had been too busy getting rid of Voldemort to pay attention to his sexual identity. The only person he had kissed so far had been Cho Chang and it had led to nothing at all except for tears on her part and exasperation on his. He was wondering vaguely about what it would be like if he came out in a newspaper like _The Daily Prophet _and how people would react when the door opened to reveal a disquietingly familiar figure. Not again, Harry thought tiredly.

"Ah. Potter. Enjoying yourself, from the look of it." Snape's dark eyes lingered on the magazine and then moved on to the young man's flushing face.

"Well, I think I prefer wizards," Harry said candidly.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I am flattered that you feel obliged to voice your, ah, preferences to me. And I thank you most cordially for disrupting my peaceful evenings here, Potter."

"You're most welcome," Harry replied. "I'm sure you'd like to check out that book over there. It might stimulate you in your gloomy dungeons."

He pointed to the one with gay art. Snape went pale with anger.

"You rude impudent conceited-"

Harry missed the end of Snape's tirade as he slipped out of the media library and closed the door.

---


	7. Chapter 7: Quarrelling

**CHAPTER 7**

The door behind Harry was ripped open.

"So much for Gryffindor courage," Snape sneered, overtaking Harry and blocking his way.

"Look, Snape, I don't want to quarrel with you. We're colleagues, as Dumbledore himself pointed out to us."

"I will not take any insolence from you, Potter, just because you're no longer my student!"

Harry had had enough. He recalled a non-verbal spell which Fred and George Weasley had taught him. He concentrated, staring at Snape.

"Potter, that was a deploringly obvious non-verbal spell." he said in a dangerous tone.

"At least you can't accuse me of having _said_ anything wrong," Harry replied humorously, biting the inside of his cheeks as he looked at Snape's hair. Snape raised his hand and ran it through his hair.

"Potter, what exactly-"

Harry took Snape's arm (Snape gave him a glance of absolute loathing at the touch) and steered him towards the mirror.

Snape went even paler than he already was. According to the mirror, his hair was an interesting shade of bright orange.

The enraged Potions Master swivelled around and grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes.

"How dare you, you-!"

Harry managed to push him away. Both wizards drew out their wands.

"Want to duel, Potter? Now we'll see if you're fit for the Defense against the Dark Arts position!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry shouted, but Snape had uttered the same spell simultaneously.

The two spells met mid-air. There was a loud explosion; the floor vibrated, the mirror fell down and shattered, tables and chairs slid a few inches over the floor and one of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling went dark. Guests leapt up in alarm.

A glass flew past Harry's ear and smashed against the picture of the wizard who had called Harry "Cutie" a few minutes ago. The wizard put his hands on his hips and hollered:

"I am not here to have things flung at me, you idiots!"

"Fuck you, Potter!" Snape bellowed.

"Yeah, fuck you too, Snape!" Harry yelled.

"Okay, that's enough, break it up, gentlemen!" A waiter had abandoned his tray to intervene.

Snape and Harry glared murderously at each other as they were separated.

"Right, now kindly put those away," the waiter continued, indicating their wands, "or you will both have to be excluded from this bar. We do not tolerate any brawling or such behaviour as you just demonstrated."

Here the other guests nodded vigorously and made sounds of hearty agreement. Harry, shame-faced, apologised; Snape simply glared and stalked off. Harry made sure to wait for five minutes before following suit, shocked gazes from the guests drilling into his back.

When he reached his rooms, he was greeted by an apologetic-looking Dobby.

"Er, for you, Harry Potter," the elf said, holding out a scarlet envelope. Harry's insides squirmed. He knew what it was.

"Thanks, Dobby," he said dully, gingerly taking the Howler. Snape evidently simply couldn't get enough.

Dobby put his hands over his ears and vanished with a crack.

"Crap," Harry muttered, steeling himself as he opened the letter.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, I WANT YOU IN MY OFFICE NOW!" Albus Dumbledore's voice resonated horrifyingly in his room, making a few books fall off his shelves. Flakes of paint from the ceiling drifted onto the floor like snow.

"Not Snape," Harry sighed.

Hedwig ruffled her feathers reproachfully at him. She had brought Harry a letter, probably from Ron and Hermione. He would have to postpone the pleasure of reading it and attend to vastly more disagreeable business. Swallowing hard, he eyed the bowl of Floo powder but decided to walk instead to Dumbledore's office. He was only too grateful if he could procrastinate the route to his new employer's wrath. He trotted meekly out of his rooms and discovered Snape in front of the gargoyle. His hair was still orange. There was an extremely unpleasant silence.

"Er – do you know the password?" Harry said.

Snape didn't deign to answer Harry and frigidly addressed the gargoyle:

"Puking Pastille."

Obviously, Dumbledore had paid a visit – or more – to the twins' joke shop in Diagon Alley.

The door was flung open by Dumbledore himself as soon as the wizards reached it.

"Good evening," he said curtly. "Come inside and take a seat."

He flicked his wand and two chairs moved before his desk, thudding together with a sickening crunch. Harry and Snape obeyed, moving their chairs away from each other immediately.

Dumbledore paced up and down in front of his desk for a few moments before sitting down and looking gravely at the two wizards, his eyes passing over Snape's orange hair without the faintest flicker of emotion.

"Severus, Harry, I am very disappointed in both of you."

Severus studied the wall behind Dumbledore and Harry became deeply absorbed in his shoelaces.

"Two adult wizards fighting in public. Two Hogwarts teachers. Two people who collaborated against Voldemort. This is like a kindergarten!"

"Headmaster, Potter started it all, as my hair clearly indicates."

"Nothing Poppy can't put right, Severus."

Snape glared at him.

"I am fully capable of fixing this issue myself, Albus."

"Glad to hear it. And I would be even happier to hear if you and you (gazing sternly at Harry) made the mountainous effort to behave like normal adult wizards."

The expressions on Harry's and Snape's faces clearly revealed that they thought the other was rather far from normal.

"Uhm…How did you hear about our, uh, argument, Professor?" Harry asked timidly, automatically falling back into his student role.

"Albus, my dear boy. The wizard who broke up your quarrel informed Nymphadora Tonks, who in turn informed me. Just because Voldemort has gone it doesn't mean all the danger is past. Bellatrix Lestrange and other Death Eaters are on the run, and you two are fully aware of this. They will want revenge for what happened to Voldemort, and the best way to achieve that goal is to locate Harry's whereabouts and yours as well, Severus, besides searching for the others who helped defeat Voldemort; I therefore asked Tonks to keep an eye on you."

There was a tense pause, then Dumbledore said briskly:

"I think I have made myself clear. You may go. Good night. AND BEHAVE YOURSELVES! CHOP CHOP!"

Mustering the remains of their shredded dignity, Snape and Harry hastily stood up and tried not to run for the door like two scared children.

Outside, they stamped away in opposite directions.

The next morning, Snape had managed to restore his hair to its usual black. Harry felt a twinge of regret. He would have loved to see the students' reactions to their Potions Master's hair problem. Dumbledore was still stern, and Harry soon saw why when Hedwig delivered _The Daily Prophet_ to him.

---


	8. Chapter 8: A Joint Project

**CHAPTER 8**

Harry did not even have to unfold _The Daily Prophet_. The front page said it all. Tentatively, he read the headlines which screamed in unmerciful capitals:

_HOGWARTS TEACHERS BRAWL IN NEW HOGSMEADE KARAOKE BAR!_

It was not often that Harry had felt so ashamed before. To make matters worse, there was even an animated picture of the wizard breaking up the quarrel. Snape's hair, he noted, was horribly orange indeed. He began to wish that he hadn't hexed the Potions Master in the first place. Whether he wanted to admit it or not: it was he, Harry, who had started with the hexing. One of the sentences of the article caught his eye.

_Was this destructive display of temper a sign of bitter rivalry or due to a lovers' spat?_

Lovers' spat? Harry choked and coughed. He and Snape had, after all, been in _Wizard's Blizzards_. People were bound to jump to conclusions and automatically think that they were not only both gay (he wasn't sure whether this applied to Snape) but also in a relationship. The last thought struck him as particularly dreadful. Snape leant forwards so that he could see Harry. He was very angry indeed.

"This, Potter, is all your fault!" he hissed.

"If you weren't always so rude-" Harry began, but was interrupted by an annoyed Dumbledore, who said deprecatingly:

"Now, now."

Harry slumped back into his seat. Whatever maturity he had gained with experience and adulthood tended to get lost when it came to Severus Snape. The other teachers pretended nothing had happened, although Minerva McGonagall's spectacles flashed dangerously at her two colleagues.

Needless to say, his first-year students, especially the Slytherins, were not at all discreet about his quarrel with Snape.

"I suggest that you ask Professor Snape himself – he is the head of your house, after all," Harry said crushingly to a Slytherin boy. "Any more nosy questions, and I will deduct ten points. I am sure I told you in my very first lesson that personal questions are rude."

The only consolation Harry received was the letter Hedwig had delivered to him last night, and which he had been too tired to read. It was from Ron and Hermione, saying that they were glad he had reached Hogwarts in one piece and asking him how he was and to write back telling them how his first week of teaching had been.

"Very eventful," Harry muttered, grabbing a piece of parchment and his quill. He searched for his ink bottle and summoned it with his wand when he couldn't find it. It zoomed out from underneath a pair of socks decorated with Quaffles and landed elegantly on his table. He scribbled a lengthy answer, explaining the true situation behind the quarrel between himself and the sour-tempered Potions Master – his friends must have read the article in _The Daily Prophet_ by now. His sense of shame deepened as he tied the parchment to Hedwig's leg. He carried the owl to the window and watched her fly away, her shape silhouetted against the sky which was flushed with the glow from the setting sun.

He had just finished grading an essay when Dobby appeared in his room. Harry yelped, and a large stain appeared on the essay.

"Dobby!" He reached for his wand and erased the inkblot.

"So sorry for disturbing you, Harry Potter, but Headmaster Dumbledore requests your presence in his office immediately!" he squeaked.

Harry sighed.

"What does he say I've done again?"

Dobby shook his head dejectedly.

"He wouldn't say."

"Thanks, Dobby…Oh, and…a new sweater for you."

Dobby opened the sweater, which was bright turquoise and which Harry had bought in Hogsmeade.

"So noble," Dobby wailed, tears splashing down his front, "such a noble wizard!"

"It's only a small thing, Dobby," Harry said, turning red.

Dobby hugged the sweater to him and departed with a final flood of grateful tears.

Harry nervously made his way to Dumbledore's office, wondering if he was going to be kicked out of Hogwarts after the article; however, Snape, too, had been summoned to the office. He glared at Harry but didn't say anything.

"Puking Pastille," Harry said dispiritedly.

As soon as they were seated in Dumbledore's office, Harry blurted out:

"We didn't brawl again!"

Snape shot him a contemptuous look. Dumbledore merely smiled.

"No, of course you did not, my dear boy. This has nothing to do with a conflict or with that very interesting article in the _Prophet_. Rather the contrary."

Both Snape and Harry stared at him.

"I have a task for both of you," Dumbledore continued brightly. The atmosphere in the room became even tenser.

"I am going to ask you to work together on a joint project."

"There is no way that I am going to work with Potter again!" Snape spluttered, shoving back his chair. Fawkes emitted an admonishing squawk. Dumbledore raised his hand: Snape resumed his seat obediently. Harry began to cough. He had lost some colour in his cheeks.

"Cough drop, Harry?" Dumbledore asked solicitously.

"Er, no thanks, I'm okay, Albus," Harry said, reddening.

"Fine. I am going to re-establish Gilderoy Lockhart's Duelling Club, although the credit for the idea goes to you, Severus."

Snape's face remained rigid.

"Anyway, considering that both of you are very accomplished in the domain of Duelling, and since next year will be devoted to the Triwizard Tournament at Beauxbatons, it would be very good for students who are interested in the Club to practise their skills. Also, students who want to participate in the Tournament have to be members of the Club. And with Bellatrix and her gang of escapees on the loose, 'constant vigilance', to quote Alastor Moody, is an absolute must. Collaboration among teachers and students is vital."

"It will take place in France next year? Cool!" Harry exclaimed. Snape could not suppress a derisive snort.

"I think you're missing the obvious, Potter," he jeered, "besides that, only the Headmaster and the selected candidates will go to France. The rest of us will stay here. There's a school to run, in case you've forgotten."

Both Harry and Dumbledore ignored him.

"Each of you will teach one group of students separately – Ravenclaws and Gryffindors for you, Harry; Hufflepuffs and Slytherins for you, Severus."

"Good. At least I get to teach my own House," Snape remarked snidely.

"Yes, yes – we don't want another run-in between you two, do we?" Dumbledore said mildly.

Snape and Harry studied the floor with impulsive fascination.

"After half-term, a Duelling Competition will be organised – only for students who are seventeen years of age. The three best Duellists will be awarded gold, silver and bronze according to their placement. Similar competitions will be run at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang respectively. That way, we are sure that only the best candidates can participate in the Tournament. Yes, Harry, I know that you were fourteen and far from completing your Magical Education back then, but may I remind you that it was a very unusual situation?"

Harry, who had opened his mouth in protest during Dumbledore's speech, said:

"It isn't that…It's just…There'll be no more chances for the other seventeen-year-olds. It's a bit…well…unfair to them."

"They will have the chance to prove themselves in the Duelling Competition. As in the Tournament, it is central to learn how to deal with rivalry, refine one's skills and not only to win but also to lose with grace."

He looked sternly at Harry and Snape.

"Well, can I entrust you with this task?"

There was a small silence; then Harry answered determinedly:

"Yes, I will do it, even if I have to do it alone."

"Don't worry, Potter. I'll do it, Headmaster," Snape ground out reluctantly. Harry noticed that his long tapering fingers were clenched.

Dumbledore rubbed his hands merrily.

"Excellent! And please don't duel against each other again – your colleagues will be keeping an eye on the proceedings during the first few sessions. Good night, my dear boys. Thank you for taking charge of what is going to be a splendid challenge for us all. Off to bed!"

---


	9. Chapter 9: Another Side of Snape

**CHAPTER 9**

The next evening after class, Harry collapsed at his desk, massaging his temples. The news of his brawl with Snape had spread around the whole school, and Harry had seen several students quickly stuff yesterday's copy of _The Daily Prophet_ into their bags if they happened to see him nearby. Harry simply ignored this. Snape was less lenient, putting everyone he caught with the article into detention and mercilessly deducting house points.

While Harry tried to relax, a handsome grey owl fluttered onto his desk through the opened window, a piece of parchment in its beak. The note was curt verging on rude, written in an admittedly elegant flowing script.

_Potter,_

_Meet me in my rooms on Sunday 8 PM sharp to discuss the joint project._

_S. Snape_

Sunday, of all days. He was sure Snape had chosen that day on purpose.

"Marry me," Harry muttered to Snape's owl. The owl drew itself up, nipped Harry severely on the wrist and flapped away from him, feathers bristling.

Harry scribbled back _All right_, signed the parchment and gave it to the owl, which flew on purposely too near his head, scraping past his ear before leaving through the window.

"Just as unpleasant as the owner," Harry grumbled.

By the end of the week, Harry, though happy to be back at Hogwarts, was thoroughly fed up of still seeing copies of the infamous article being tucked away hastily or even read underneath desks. In his last class, he summoned all the pieces of newspaper with his wand and directed them to the waste bin. The students looked at him guiltily and he found it very difficult not to give them more homework than usual. Snape had obviously not been able to resist the temptation of piling assignments on them; Harry overheard a few students grumbling angrily about the five-page-essay they had to write for his subject.

Besides the article, Harry had to put up with Howlers from some of the bar's clientele, yelling at him that he was no hero at all but a conceited rowdy. On the other hand, there was a generous pile of fan mail praising his singing performance to the skies. The mail reminded him that he would have to go down to En_chant_ments on Saturday evening. He owed Tonks an apology for the unpleasant incident with Snape. To be on the safe side, he took his Invisibility Cloak with him. Gryffindor or not, he was not in the mood for further confrontations and possibly another quarrel with the nasty-tempered Slytherin.

Nervosus gave him a somewhat stiff greeting but allowed him to enter the bar. Madleina looked at him warily and reminded him tartly to empty his locker; there were lots of fans' gifts inside, including the spangled robes. Harry decided on arranging to have the whole lot forwarded to him via owl post. It would probably take fifteen owls, he mused. He shut and secured his locker. A sharp finger prodded him in the back. He turned around, thinking of Snape. It was Tonks.

"Harry, One more quarrel with Severus Snape in here and you will just have to go," she said crossly, "look at all the negative repercussions…mortifying article in the _Prophet_…members threatening to drop their membership…"

"Tonks, I'm so sorry, it won't happened again, I'm going to issue a public apology in the _Prophet_," Harry said with very red ears and cheeks. "Dumbledore gave both of us a good telling-off and he has, uhm, punished us by making us work together on establishing a Duelling Club."

"Make sure that you don't set up your club over here again," Tonks warned him, but her face relaxed and her tone was friendlier. "I suppose he does get underneath one's skin," she added, referring to Snape.

"He sure does. He wouldn't happen to be here tonight, does he?" He thought it was a pity that the Marauder's Map didn't work outside Hogwarts.

"I actually saw him a few minutes before," Tonks answered, her dark eyes glinting. "Had a few strict words with him. He didn't take it as well as you, I think he's gone to the main hall for some…peace. Make sure you two behave properly, now."

"I will. Oh, by the way, can I have all the stuff in my locker sent to Hogwarts via owl post?"

Tonks eyes twinkled roguishly.

"No problem. You'll get it on Monday. What do you intend to do with it all?"

"I was thinking of charity. There are so many robes in there, I'm sure they'll come in useful…It's not as if I can wear them, most of them are witches' clothes."

"Very good idea, Harry. I like it. Enjoy your evening – arrivederci!" She departed happily.

Harry wanted to go the main hall of the karaoke bar to have some fun listening to the singing, but he was interrupted five times on his way by wizards and witches asking him for closer details on his quarrel with Snape. Thoroughly annoyed, Harry slipped into an empty corner, extracted his Cloak and draped it over himself. He carefully slipped back into the corridor, shrinking against the wall now and then to avoid being bumped into. To his astonishment, he suddenly caught sight of Snape walking in the opposite direction, accompanied by a witch or wizard wearing black robes and whose head and face were, disturbingly enough, covered by a hood. Harry hesitated. It was none of his business. And he didn't want to risk another skirmish. On the other hand…Maybe Snape was involved in some shady business. One never knew. And, to be honest, Harry was not averse to uncovering something potentially damaging to Snape after the way Snape had treated him when he was still a student. Not that Snape was any nicer now. Harry doubled back, rebuking himself for his regression into immature behaviour, and followed the two figures. They led him to the back door of the karaoke bar, outside into the open air. The door slammed closed behind him. It was raining outside. A whole lot of dustbins were piled up on one side. Harry slid behind them. Snape and his companion stopped a few feet away, not caring that they were standing in the rain, and the latter threw back his hood, revealing a strikingly attractive male face and long auburn hair. The wizard peeled off his cloak with the attached hood, letting it slide onto the ground. Harry frowned when he noticed that the wizard was only wearing tight silvery pants – and nothing else. He watched with bated breath as the young man drew close to Snape, running his hands over the Potions Master's chest. Snape pulled him roughly against him. They kissed hungrily, their bodies squeezed together. Harry's jaw dropped. Snape. Kissing. It was not the fact that Snape was kissing a guy that shocked him. He was astonished that Snape could kiss at all…or that someone would want to kiss him in the first place. He felt that he was intruding on something extremely private. He was just about to leave when the two men broke apart, breathing hard.

"I can't do this. Not on the spot. It is out of the question," Snape said sharply.

"I know you want me. You're starved for it, aren't you? We don't have to go all the way right now. We can just kiss some more, go over to my place…I'm here just for some fun… And so are you. Nothing serious."

"I don't know you well enough to do what you want," Snape said contemptuously.

"You seem to be an arrogant and prude kind of guy," the other wizard pointed out in a cool voice.

"And you seem to go for every man who is shows the slightest interested in you. You needn't think that magic and potions can cure all the diseases that come with cheap promiscuous behaviour, my dear boy."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, judging people like that? Treating me like some kind of male slut? That's it for me. I'm not interested. You can go hump a Bowtruckle."

He bent, retrieved his robe and stalked away; he paused and shouted over his shoulder:

"You're not the most attractive of men, you know! Can't imagine who'd ever want to be with you!"

Harry watched Snape lean back against the wall with a sigh, the rain flowing down his thin face, glistening on his cheekbones. His lips were parted. He raised his hands and covered his face with them. Harry inched closer for a better look. His elbow hit the lid of one of the waste bins and it fell down with a tremendous clatter. Snape leapt up with alacrity, drawing out his wand, and a streak of light illuminated the immediate area surrounding him.

"Who's there?" he yelled. Harry, stifling a torrent of curses, crouched underneath the Cloak.

Snape moved towards him, flipping back his dripping hair.

"There is no use hiding from me!"

He came even closer, only four steps away from Harry.

"I can sense you, you're nearby," the Potions Master whispered. Harry panicked. He flung over the bins he was hiding behind and ran for it. He managed to Disapparate before Snape reached the very spot where he had vanished. In his nervousness, Harry Misapparated slightly and ended up in a toilet cubicle of En_chant_ments. This would not have been so dramatic if the cubicle hadn't already been occupied. A loud yell echoed through the room as Harry knocked the unhappy occupant off the toilet seat.

"Hey! Haul your ass back in here!" the toilet seat squawked.

Harry swore and burst out of the cubicle while the wizard he had dislodged so unceremoniously tried to settle his robes and get up at the same time, cursing loudly. Harry looked right and left, shrugged off his Cloak in front of the Men's toilet, hastily bundled it up and stashed it away underneath his clothes.

---


	10. Chapter 10: A Tense Meeting

**CHAPTER 10**

Harry decided to recover in the main hall of the bar. He didn't dare visit _Wizard's Blizzards_ again after the fiasco with Snape. This time, he appreciated being part of the audience while a few people sang on the stage. Most of them sang quite well, but there was a wizard who was dreadfully off key. Many people began to rub their ears with unnecessary vigour. Snape didn't seem to be in the audience, although he did catch sight of the young auburn-haired wizard who had left in a huff. After a while, he glanced at his watch and realised that it was time to head back to Hogwarts. On the way home, he thought of Snape continuously. So the man wanted companionship, for want of a better expression. Maybe even love. He could still see him leaning against the wall in the rain, the slender hands shielding his face. Against the raindrops or to hide the tears? Harry didn't know. He had felt sorry for Snape after seeing his humiliation in the Pensieve. Now he felt the same for him a second time. It was a cold mid-September night, but the sky was very clear. Harry looked up at the stars, wrapping his cloak more tightly around his person, recalling with a pang that Sirius was the name of a star. Sirius. He still missed him very much – not all the time in the world would alleviate what he felt for him. And he had been so desperate, so eager to blame Snape for his death. Now he knew that he had been wrong. A sharp breeze startled him into resuming his homebound route.

Once in his office, sifting aimlessly through a pile of freshly corrected essays and the next day's class material, he brooded some more about Snape. It looked like the man had had an unhappy childhood – like Harry himself. They were both of Magic-Muggle descent. They had fought against Voldemort. Both taught at Hogwarts. And obviously, not averse to men. Harry thought of the wizard in the picture of _Wizard's Blizzards._ He also thought of the auburn-haired wizard. And that, of course, got him where he had started. Back to Snape. He had looked sensual in the rain. Sensual? Harry snapped up in his chair, the parchments drifting onto the floor.

"Shut up, Harry," he told himself strictly.

Unfortunately for Harry, he was reminded of Snape by _The Sunday Prophet_, which sported an article entitled _ASSAULT IN ENCHANTMENTS TOILET!_

Harry began to read. Besides speculating on pranks possibly executed by members the bar's clientele, the writer of the article even considered a Death Eater attack behind the mysterious matter as a likely explanation. The thought of Bellatrix Lestrange displacing people violently in toilets struck Harry as exceedingly disturbing, to say nothing of downright ludicrous. Dumbledore had a strange expression in his eyes as he watched the young man read the newspaper, absorbed in the article. He patted his beard thoughtfully and helped himself to some more sausages with a small smile. Snape, on the other hand, was in a cataclysmic mood. He was fully prepared to torture the batch of students who had the misfortune of being in his classes today.

"I suppose the wizard got quite literally attacked," Dumbledore remarked when Harry put the newspaper aside.

"It certainly seems so," Harry said, managing to casually transport a piece of bacon from his fork to his mouth. Dumbledore smiled some more and focused upon his breakfast. Snape threw both of them murderous glances, and Harry could have sworn that he heard a sound of metal bending. When Snape put his goblet back on the table, there was a sizable dent in it. Snape gave it a black look and effaced the defect with his wand. Harry thought of his evening appointment with Snape and began to wish it would never come, but evening did come, and Harry found himself trotting down to Snape's dungeon-dwellings, a plan for the Duelling Club in his bag, among other things. He was sure that Snape would scoff at his plan and throw it into the fire. He therefore had plenty of spare parchment and two bottles of ink. Unlike Harry's quarters, Snape's rooms were not in the same location as his office; they were further down a dark cold corridor.

Probably wants to make sure no one can sneak a peek around his private rooms if he should have to leave his office unattended for even a few seconds, Harry thought, knocking on the office door and entering.

"Potter. I thought that Floo power was a known method of travelling to you," a cold voice greeted him. Snape detached himself from the shadowy wall against which he had been leaning.

"I prefer walking."

"I suppose the famous Professor Potter has to make sure there is no ash on his robes and face. It would disrupt your autograph-sessions."

Anger sparked up in Harry, but he fought it down and ignored the remark.

"What exactly did you do to my owl Alexander to put it out of temper, Potter?" Snape demanded.

"Alexander?"

"Obviously, your knowledge of both Magical and Muggle history is deplorable. Alexander the Great. Does that mean anything to you?"

"You're interested in _Muggle_ history?" Harry asked.

Snape glared at him.

"Surely you have enough brain matter to realise that Muggle and Wizarding histories and timelines overlap sometimes, Potter?"

Harry didn't quite know what made him say what he said next:

"Well, I believe that there was some controversy about Alexander the Great's portrayal as a homosexual or bisexual man. Were you thinking of that aspect when you named your owl?"

If Snape was surprised, then he displayed perfect self-control, except that his face seemed a little paler than usual. Before he could retort, Harry continued:

"As for your owl: I asked it to marry me. I was tired."

"The next time you make a marriage proposal to my owl, kindly inform me beforehand. I am not sure the Ministry would approve of your dubious tendencies, however, and I have no intentions of buying another owl. In addition, what you have to say is of minor impact even when you are not tired."

The Slytherin smirked, pushed his hair over his shoulder and scanned Harry's face with his probing black eyes.

"Buying or burying an owl?" Harry asked.

Snape didn't seem to find this question funny. His eyes glinted menacingly.

"Right. I've drawn up an organisational chart for how we could organise the Club," Harry said quickly, opening his bag and handing Snape the plan. The long fingers curled around it.

"I would like to hear your opinion." Harry wasn't too sure if he actually wanted to hear Snape's opinion. Snape was evidently aware of this.

"You have no other choice, Potter," he snapped.

Harry glanced at the thin fingers.

"You play the piano and harpsichord, don't you? Madleina from the karaoke bar told me," he said.

Snape lowered the parchment.

"We are here to discuss our project, not some gossip a blabbering witch burdened you with."

Who knew that sexual frustration, among other things, could make a man so sour? The thought made Harry grin for a moment.

"Stop grinning like an idiot, Potter. Your father-"

"Calm down, Snape. Or do you want pink hair?"

Snape rose, Harry's plan forgotten. The two men stared at each other, noses nearly touching as Harry looked up at Snape and Snape looked down at Harry, who was not at all impressed by the height difference between them.

"Fine, Potter. If you've come here to laugh at me-"

"I didn't come here to do anything of the sort. And if you think that I came here to be insulted and have you insult my father for the umpteenth time, then you're mistaken, Snape. Look, let's try and be tolerant. Before we're made to, uh, I don't know do what, clean all of Hogwarts together."

The black eyes did not let go of Harry's green ones. They could hear each other inhaling and exhaling. Harry's mind leapt back to the scene in the rain. Harry raised his hand and gently placed it on Snape's left arm, where the Dark Mark was, burnt into the skin even after Voldemort's demise. The muscles underneath the sleeve tensed at once.

"Please. Let's just sit down and organise this."

A tension-filled pause later, Snape sat down again in his chair, Harry's hand sliding off his arm.

"I had the following in mind," Snape said abruptly, tossing a parchment at Harry rather than handing it to him.

To Harry's surprise, the two plans were similar in many points.

"Well, that's good," Harry voiced his first imppression.

Snape simply looked as if he would have loved to set a Blast-Ended Skrewt on Harry. They discussed the plan in brief sentences, Harry cautious and Snape stiff.

Two hours later, Snape said curtly:

"We have covered the most important points together. I think you can remove your insupportable presence from my quarters, Potter."

"We haven't found a name for the Club yet," Harry pointed out.

"Name? What do we need a name for? Doomed Duelling Club?" Snape scoffed, getting up and crossing his arms over his chest.

"As you wish. I still think it should have a name."

"And I think you should take yourself off to _your_ bed."

"Sure. You don't think I'd want to spend the night in here with you, do you?" Harry said waspishly, giving a livid Snape a jaunty wave as he walked out of the office.

---


	11. Chapter 11: Attempting a Truce

**CHAPTER 11**

It was Harry's turn to "invite" Snape to his rooms (his office was a shameful mess) and he had done so, dispatching an owl and receiving a curt affirmative answer. And so, on a calm cold Friday evening, there was a forceful knock on the Harry's door and the familiar black-robed figure entered, the black eyes glowering above the haughty nose, taking in the furnishings of the room critically.

"Good evening, Snape," Harry said politely, getting up from the floor where he had been setting up a row of dominoes in the shape of a huge spiral.

"Potter," he said curtly. The teen was wearing sneakers, blue jeans and a green T-shirt which accentuated his eyes and proclaimed: _I FEEL GOOD_.

"Dear, dear. Are all your robes in the laundry?" Snape commented acidly, his gaze lingering on Harry's slight figure for a moment.

"No, I like to wear Muggle clothes sometimes, no sleeves to get in the way, you know. I'm sure you've got a pair of jeans at your disposal as well."

"I am not here to discuss the contents of my wardrobe, Potter."

"Please sit down. You're right on time – I just finished with the dominoes." Harry did not guide him to his desk but to the fireplace where there were very comfortable armchairs and a handsome coffee table.

"Would you like something to drink?" Harry asked.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Being the perfect host, aren't you?" he murmured.

"Pumpkin juice? Tea? Coca-Cola?"

Snape, who had actually pulled a sour face at the last beverage, chose tea. In no time at all, a cup was steaming gently on the table in front of Snape.

"Why do you bother arranging those by hand?" Snape asked suddenly, gesturing at the dominoes.

"It's no fun with a wand. The fun thing about it all is to set them up without a mistake, and if you make one, well, you've got to start from scratch."

"That's fun?" Snape said sceptically.

"Yes. Sunflower seeds? Said to be very healthy."

A bowl glided over to him in the air. Snape helped himself to some of them, and the bowl glided back.

Snape shelled all the sunflower seeds simultaneously with a non-verbal charm, the empty husks landing on the table in a neat pile.

Harry stared.

"But…the fun about eating sunflower seeds is _peeling_ them," he pointed out.

"Potter, if you are so keen on doing things in the most impractical manner possible, then the Club's chance of surviving the initial stage is nil."

"Maybe you'll want to give peeling a try. You might be surprised."

"Nothing surprises me nowadays, Potter."

"Life is always full of surprises."

"And you are full of moronic statements," Snape answered rudely. "Is the small talk over? Can we move on?"

"Yeah. Sure. I considered it more than small talk, though."

"Whatever."

This time, the discussion wasn't so smooth as the first time; they disagreed on the kind of spells to teach the students.

"The Patronus spell is too advanced," Snape snapped.

"Not for everyone."

"Yes, yes, you're the huge exception, aren't you, Potter?"

"Snape, who says that Bellatrix doesn't have Dementors at hand? She'd know them pretty well after so many years in Azkaban, too."

"Searching for an army of students to defend you in case an army of Dementors descends upon you, Potter?"

"Don't be stupid!" Harry said angrily.

"Stupid? I am really not sure whether that is an apt description of myself. I am inclined to think that it suits, ah, other people better."

Harry jumped from his chair.

"You drive me up the walls, Snape!" he exclaimed, frustrated.

"Your father also didn't have much self-control," Snape remarked. Harry turned, picked up a cushion from the couch and flung it at Snape with all his might. Snape, who had just been setting down his cup of tea, saw it too late.

"POTTER!" he roared, his left cheek red due to the impact of the cushion.

"You deserve it, you bad-tempered git!" Harry shouted.

"You want to duel again, you insolent conceited brat?" Snape hissed.

"Let's do it the Muggle way, if you're so keen on destroying this project. Without wands. We both have good physical training, don't we? You as a former spy for both Voldemort and Dumbledore, and I as a Quidditch player."

"Muggle way?" Snape sneered.

"There is no need to sneer that way at the word. I know that your father was a Muggle and your mother a witch, so don't go all pureblood on me!"

There was a ringing silence. Then Snape hissed:

"How did you find out? Who told you?"

"So you don't deny it."

"Who told you?" Snape repeated, striding forwards, placing his hand on Harry's chest and thrusting him back.

"I won't divulge the name. You would hex the person into kingdom come."

"You're damned right, Potter!" He made to push Harry again, but Harry seized both his wrists.

"Listen to me. Why is having a Muggle parent or ancestor such a shame? Do you really think I'd care about it? I'm proud of my heritage, and you should be too. And look at Hermione. Muggle parents and one of the most powerful witches I've ever known. Is that a reason to freak out?"

"Did Albus tell you?"

"No. Dumbledore didn't do anything of the sort. He trusts you and I know you trust him. Do you think he would want to break that trust? I know how much he values your trust. It was someone else."

"Hermione Granger told you, didn't she? There are marriage and birth records in the library. She was doing a project on Wizarding genealogy last year."

Harry remained silent, not moving his eyes from Snape's.

"Look. We've got to get along."

"You lost your temper first." Snape tried to snatch his back his wrists, but without success.

"Of course I did. You were provoking me deliberately. You know that it would happen. And it did. I want a truce."

"You're not going to get it by throwing objects at me. Try humiliating me, Potter. It won't work. Not like it did back then."

"Do you want to know what I felt like when I saw you in the Pensieve?"

"Careful, Potter. You're stepping on dangerous ground."

Harry shifted his grip from Snape's wrists to his forearms.

"I felt pain and pity when I saw you like that, and I felt the same way after what I saw in the Pensieve."

Snape ground his teeth.

"Pain and pity. I abhor both. And do you expect me to believe you?"

"I do."

"Give me one good reason as to why I should believe you."

"I want to put aside our differences. And…I have been in the same situation several times. I know what it is like to be humiliated in front of people."

"You? Popular Harry James Potter? Humiliated? Tell me another!"

"You witnessed my memories. You know it's the truth. It happened with the Dursleys. It happened at Hogwarts as well."

He looked unflinchingly into the dark angry eyes.

"We can work together. We did it before."

"So a shallow feeling of, ah, sympathy where humiliation is concerned…Is that the only reason you want a truce?"

"My feelings are not shallow. They are sincere. And there is another very important reason."

"Go ahead."

"I never thanked you for saving my life during all these years. I didn't trust you back then. Until now." He decided not to include the extremely recent episode where he had decided to spy on Snape outside the bar.

"I trust you. I could not have defeated Voldemort without you. You risked your life for me more than once, and I never acknowledged it because of all the history between us. Now the circumstances are different. So…thank you, Severus. I don't know how I can ever repay you, so this is all I can say. What you did for me means a lot to me."

Snape gazed at him. The anger faded in his eyes. Harry released his forearms. Then he said expressionlessly:

"Better late than never. Truce accepted, Potter."

Harry smiled at him and extended his hand. Snape hesitated, then took it and shook it very quickly.

"I may call you Severus?"

"You already did. I prefer using your last name."

"Okay."

"Fine. That's done. Now get lost, Potter."

"Are you trying to chuck me out of my own rooms?"

"Right, Potter, let us go over this Patronus issue again."

Harry smiled again and they sat down, Snape's eyes lingering on Harry's T-shirt for the smallest moment.

---


	12. Chapter 12: Tuning Snape's Piano

**CHAPTER 12**

After Snape had left Harry's quarters, Harry went over to the dominoes. It was a symbol for the truce between him and Snape. It had been very difficult to establish and one false step would make everything crumble. Harry gently nudged the first domino with his finger, and the spiral became alive with sudden movement and sound. Harry smiled thoughtfully and, with a flick of his wand, sent the pieces flying into their box.

On Monday evening, Snape was in the worst mood possible because the piano-tuner, or rather "tuneress", was running late – by two minutes. Harry had encountered him swearing to himself near the Hogwarts entrance and inquired what the problem was.

Snape had unleashed a sour answer and a curse on all the unreliable piano-tuners in the world.

"I'm sure she'll be due any moment, Severus," Harry said reassuringly.

Snape shot him a black look.

"For someone who doesn't know anything about music, I suppose it is a matter of no importance at all."

"Actually, I wouldn't mind looking at your piano."

"My dear Potter, what is the use of looking at the instrument? What have you got ears for?"

Harry was learning not to let Snape's sarcasm get to him.

"But one also wants to look at the piano, and at the pianist as well."

Snape didn't answer. In another minute, a harried-looking witch rushed up to them.

"I am so very sorry, the last tuning took ages, ancient piano and clogged with dust in spite of the pamphlet on piano care I gave-"

"Fine. Now, instead of wasting more time, let's tune my piano, shall we?" Snape interrupted her rudely.

The witch looked hurt but nodded.

"I am Isabella, by the way," she introduced herself hastily to Harry; but before he could reveal his name, she gasped out:

"Oh my! Harry Potter?" Her eyes lingered on his scar in wonder while Harry flushed in embarrassment.

Snape sneered and whisked away.

"Er, may I come along, Severus? I have never seen a piano-tuning before."

"As long as you don't touch it or go anywhere near it," Snape growled, walking so fast that Isabella and Harry were forced to break into a jog.

The piano was kept in a special room on the third floor; the humid and cold dungeons were definitely not the right place for such a delicate and exquisite instrument; it was made out of polished black wood and bore intricate carvings.

"Muggle-made," Snape remarked expressionlessly.

"What is the difference between Muggle and magical pianos?" Harry wanted to know.

Isabella answered:

"Well, magical pianos tend to be charmed and are more animated than Muggle ones. Most of them come with self-cleaning and self-tuning features, but the charms have to be renewed on a regular basis, and some pianos protest loudly when their keys are being banged too hard or the cover slammed down, or they are bewitched to play their own little repertoire of short pieces like jigs and waltzes, or-"

"Spare us the lesson and go ahead with your work," Snape interrupted her for the second time.

The tuning session took one whole hour, Snape keeping a hawk's eye on the procedure and Harry asking questions from time to time, which Isabella answered enthusiastically.

"So, it's tuned, Mr Snape," she said, trying out the piano.

"Good," Snape said curtly. Isabella hastily stepped aside as Snape sat down on the piano stool and placed his fingers on the keys.

Both Harry and Isabella listened in fascinated silence as the melancholic strains of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata filled the room. The tapering fingers moved swiftly from one key to another for a few minutes before Snape rose.

"Excellent," he remarked abruptly. Harry gasped mentally. Praise from Snape was an all-time rarity. Isabella beamed.

"How much do I owe you?"

Isabella named him the sum while Harry approached the piano curiously.

"I'll transfer your fee to your Gringotts account by the middle of this week," Snape said.

As soon as the piano-tuner had left, Snape rounded on Harry.

"I told you not to go near my piano," he said in a low deadly voice.

Harry reddened a little and stepped back.

"I'm sorry. It is a very beautiful instrument. And…you play very nicely."

"I would like to practise a little, now. Please do me the infinite kindness of leaving."

He turned his back on Harry and resumed his place at the piano.

Harry tiptoed out of the room and went for a stroll outside in the grounds. So Snape was an accomplished piano player. Madleina had also mentioned the harpsichord. Harry wondered if there was a harpsichord in another room. And the other thing was…Snape could play. He could play very beautifully, with emotion and passion subtly hidden in each note. Was the piano an outlet for his feelings and moods? How could such a cynical embittered man coax forth such sweet music? Snape the Potions Master. Snape the piano player.

"Harry, my dear boy. You are looking pensive," a familiar voice said next to him. Dumbledore had joined him.

"Well, a witch, Isabella, came to tune Snape's piano, and Snape played a little afterwards. And…I was impressed. I never knew he was fond of the piano, or of the harpsichord, as Madleina mentioned to me at the karaoke bar."

"Ah yes. Severus is a bit shy about his musical skills. Or perhaps insecure is a better word," Dumbledore remarked, and there seemed a slight sadness in his voice. A small pause followed; it was broken by Harry.

"Er, Albus, I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead, Harry."

"I would like to have my ear pierced and get a small silver ring or a stud. Nothing conspicuous or flashy, just something small."

"I see," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"Well, I'd like to know if it's okay for me to do this. In case it may seem, uh, provocative or something at Hogwarts."

"My dear boy, female and male teachers can enjoy their ear piercings over here, provided the ornaments don't hang all the way down to their toes or bear slogans or something."

Harry laughed.

"Great, then I'll check out Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley for a piercing studio…The wizarding world has piercing studios?"

"But of course, Harry. Piercings and tattoos are exceedingly popular in the wizarding world as well. I scarcely need point out to you that hygiene and professionalism are musts in both worlds. Hogsmeade has a very excellent little place indeed. Keep an eye out for _Skin Deep_."

With a wink, Dumbledore withdrew. Harry wondered whether Dumbledore had ever profited from the shop's service before.

---


	13. Chapter 13: Embarrassments and Piercings

**CHAPTER 13**

After a particularly tiring day, Harry found himself sitting in front of a huge parcel containing the stuff fans had thrown onto the stage during his performance in the karaoke bar. It had been delivered by eight exhausted owls on Monday, and he had only managed to open it now. To his complete embarrassment, there was a lot of underwear in the box– men's and women's.

"What on earth," he said glumly to himself, holding up a lacy yellow bra with a broomstick pattern, "am I supposed to do with this?"

He dug around some more and extracted an odd object which looked like a hollowed-out banana.

"Huh? What the heck is this?"

He examined it from all angles, shaking his head. He would have to ask someone. He had never seen something like it before. He tucked it away in his pocket absent-mindedly and turned to the other items. Plenty of witch's robes and hats…shoes…squealing toys…Harry had no idea to do with it all. Perhaps he could donate it for some charitable purpose. On the other hand, who would want such underwear? See-through boxers…

"I thought that underwear was meant for _covering_," he said to Hedwig. The snowy owl hooted and continued eating a frog she had caught outside.

Harry finished exploring the parcel and decided to sort the articles according to type. The robes ended up in one pile, the underwear in another and whatever was not clothes in a third heap. Then, glancing at his watch, he left his rooms for dinner. He was still wondering what to do with the fans' contributions when he bumped into someone.

"Potter! Much as I would like to duel with you-"

"Sorry, Severus. Wasn't looking where I was going."

"That is stating the obvious," Snape replied coldly. Then, suddenly, an inexplicable smirk appeared on his face.

"You have dropped…something."

Harry realised that the weird fan-article he had stuffed into his pocket had fallen out. He bent and picked it up.

"Oh yes, that came along with the stuff the people at En_chant_ments threw onto the stage. I have no idea what it is. Do you?"

Snape looked as if he was actually about to…laugh. Harry blinked. Snape and laughing didn't suit. Not unless it was for some malicious purpose.

"My dear Potter…That object is supposed to increase the sensation of autoerotic stimulation. The one you are holding is specially designed for males."

Harry stared, then went very red indeed as Snape's words sank into him.

"You…you mean…this…" he stammered in shock.

"My, my, what touching naiveté," Snape murmured.

Harry glared at him.

"You can take this, if you want. You seem to know about what it does," he said very politely.

Snape's smirk disappeared. Before he could retort, Peeves came floating around them.

"Snape and Potter! What is Potter about to give Snape? OHHHH! POTTER IS GIVING SNAPE A …OH MY! NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY! HAHAHA! JUST WAIT UNTIL EVERYONE KNOWS!"

Peeves rushed away, bellowing the news. Snape was furious and Harry wanted to seek refuge in a mouse hole. It seemed as if their truce was about to crumble as quickly as the dominoes Harry had playfully knocked down.

"I…I'm so sorry," Harry muttered, hastily withdrawing his hand and thrusting the now identified object into his robes, "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Don't worry, Potter," Snape ground out through clenched teeth. "Your father and his gang made me get used to regular embarrassment from quite a young age onwards."

"Severus," Harry said, "I really am sorry."

Snape glowered at him.

"And I was actually thinking of donating this and the other stuff to some charitable institution."

Snape's expression was replaced by one of complete incredulity. His mouth twitched.

"What institution were you thinking of precisely, Potter?"

"Er…something to do with children…Where the material could be used to make new clothes…and…I thought this was a toy."

The Potions Master went into a long coughing spasm.

"Potter, it is a toy, but I can assure you that it was not designed for children's enjoyment."

"Yeah, well, I kind of figured that out with your input," Harry answered. Snape snorted disdainfully and went for dinner.

Students and teachers cast occasional glances at Snape and Harry. The former, in particular, were not at all discreet about it, elbowing and nudging each other. Peeves had done a good job. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat and addressed Harry:

"I believe you were or are carrying a dubious item on you, Harry?"

Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's other side, speared a piece of potato with unnecessary violence.

Harry launched into an explanation and was about to draw the offending object out of his robes when Dumbledore hastily stopped him with an alarmed look in his eyes.

"My dear boy, you had better not do so, especially not at table. I must say that it is a rather unique article, though. I suggest that you get rid of it as quickly as possible."

"I definitely will," Harry said grimly.

Snape banged his goblet down on the table with a bitter sneer.

Harry came to the conclusion to send the robes and underwear to a wizarding service which distributed used clothes to the more needy witches and wizards. He did the necessary, dispatching a neat parcel with Hedwig and three other owls. He forwarded the toys to George and Fred Weasley to modify for their joke shop. He did not dare include the questionable object which had caused him such mortification. Instead, he decided to take it with him to Hogsmeade and leave it clandestinely in _The Three Broomsticks_ – which he managed to do on Saturday evening, a day before meeting up with Snape to discuss the last steps of organising the Duelling Club.

"The Hat should have put me in Slytherin after all," Harry breathed to himself after strengthening himself with Butterbeer and fleeing the pub before people could notice what he had "forgotten" – or that it was he who had "forgotten" something in the first place. He didn't have to search long until he discovered _Skin Deep_. Tattooing designs, piercing jewellery and close-ups of the artwork jumped up and down frantically in the window, simply yelling for attention. Harry summoned his Gryffindor courage and stepped into the shop. It was very large, with a big display room and more rooms further inside. A middle-aged wizard in neat sober blue robes greeted him.

"Do call me Mr Slasher," he said cheerfully as he and Harry shook hands; then, seeing the expression on Harry's face:

"That's only a nickname."

"I see. Well, pleased to meet you, Mr Slasher. I am Harry Potter."

Mr Slasher gasped.

"Merlin's tattoo! Harry Potter? The saviour of our kind? In my shop! Oh!" He seemed on the verge of an ecstatic collapse.

"Er…Thank you, I'm really just a wizard like everyone else."

"And so modest as well!" Mr Slasher gushed, sounding remarkably like Dobby. Then, pulling himself together, he asked:

"So, have you come here for a tattoo or a piercing, sir?"

"I am interested in a ear piercing."

"Which ear?"

"The right one," Harry said randomly.

""Type of jewellery?"

"A small stud. I see that you sell jewellery?"

"Oh yes, sir. Goblin-made silver, yellow gold, white gold and platinum." Mr Slasher suddenly became stern.

"Never use silver in a fresh piercing. Only in a healed one. Let me show you the jewellery which might suit you, Mr. Potter."

Mr Slasher produced a tape measure with strange symbols on it and measured Harry's ear. Then he stepped back and examined Harry's face and figure critically.

"Not very tall…slight build…thin face…green eyes…Hmmm…"

He motioned Harry to follow him. They spent a few minutes discussing the jewellery until Harry settled on a plain earring and a stud with an emerald in it to suit his eyes. Both were out of polished Goblin white gold.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" The wizard put aside the jewellery and led Harry to a separate room. A pair of gloves was summoned, and, instead of a gun or needle, a funny long metal instrument resembling a very fine probe.

"What is that?" Harry asked nervously.

"The tool with which to pierce your ear. No direct contact with the skin. Absolutely hygienic – charmed with a thorough Cleaning Spell and rubbed with Doxy-egg disinfectant. Consists of special steel to minimise allergy risks. Do you see this tip, sir? It emits the thinnest ray of extremely hot flame which will penetrate your earlobe."

"So, in other words, you are burning a hole into my ear?"

Mr Slasher beamed at him proudly.

"Yes indeed. No punching, poking, ripping and bloodshed! And…a special potion for you to numb the discomfort."

A spotless cup was levitated to Harry, who took it gingerly and swallowed the contents; and exactly ten minutes later, he left the shop, a huge grin plastered on his face, the emerald stud in his ear and an animated pamphlet on aftercare.

On Sunday evening, Harry was greeted icily by Snape. His black eyes lingered on his new earring.

"You like it? I got it done in a _Skin Deep_ and-" Harry began, but Snape interrupted him:

"That garish tattooing and piercing parlour in Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah, that one. It's not garish. That's all art. And I'm interested in a tattoo."

"Potter, this fascination with self-mutilation is disquieting."

Harry was about to point out that Snape himself had a tattoo, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to remind him of it. He therefore remained quiet.

"Yes, yes, I also have a…tattoo, Potter. I am glad you are learning tact."

"Now, that is still a domain where you lack expertise, Severus," Harry said jokingly.

Snape's mouth thinned.

"Please step into the room, Potter, instead of hanging around the entrance. I see that you don't bother with proper attire anymore."

Harry had donned light-blue faded jeans and a black T-shirt which said: CHECK ME OUT AND CHECK ME IN.

"You still take the trouble to notice," Harry pointed out. Snape flushed slightly and turned his back on him.

"Let's get this over with, Potter."

He flipped back his hair and strode off.

He does have nice hair, now that he washes it in order to be sexier when trying to flirt with the wizards at En_chant_ments, Harry mused. And had to prevent himself from not stumbling. Snape. Sexy. Had the potion in _Skin Deep_ been too strong for him?

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	14. Chapter 14: A Moment of Understanding

**CHAPTER 14**

Spending time together with Snape was never a comfortable or particularly inspiring experience; but Harry was not used to the strange probing glances Snape was shooting him frequently, or to the fact that Snape actually offered him green tea and a few biscuits. Now, sitting in a jade-coloured armchair, the dim office and fierce red flames of the fire making everything eerie, Harry once again became aware of Snape's black eyes studying him.

"May I ask you why you are looking at me in such a sceptical manner?" Harry asked finally.

Snape leant back a little without shifting his gaze.

"You are rather young, Potter. Personally, I think you are too young for all this."

"You mean, to be a teacher? Are you of this opinion because you and I have a somewhat tense relationship, or because of what you would call my puerile behaviour?" Harry asked quietly, sipping his tea.

"Both," Snape answered bluntly, "and yet you are older in many ways than your peers."

"Because of the burden which was placed on me by Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"So you are in two minds about my age."

"I suppose you could put it that way."

Silence. Harry set down his teacup. His eyes met Snape's again, and he felt a slight warmth in his cheeks.

Why did the man have to have such an unsettling way of looking at people? he wondered.

"Are you sure you don't want to give the Duelling Club a name?" he asked quickly.

"No, Potter," Snape answered testily.

Another silence. Harry began to find it all somewhat unnerving.

"If I recall correctly, we were talking last time about how to fit the Duelling Club lessons into everyone's schedules," he reminded Snape.

Snape folded his hands elegantly.

"Let's see. After our debate concerning the Patronus charm, we said that the Club would be open for fourth-year students and above, while the students from the first three years could watch from a safe distance. Distance is crucial, as I am quite certain that many participants from your group will end up in St. Mungo's."

"Yeah, together with some of your students," Harry chipped in casually.

Snape silenced him with an ominous glare and slammed a piece of parchment down on the table.

"Sit here, Potter, that way I don't have to keep on turning the parchment in your direction."

Harry rose and sat down next to Snape. The sudden nearness of the enigmatic Slytherin made him uneasy.

"You are sitting on my robes, Potter," Snape remarked acidly. Harry obligingly got up and left a larger space between them.

Snape was becoming rather irritated.

"Closer, Potter! I don't feel like shifting the parchment from side to side just for your majestic convenience!" he barked.

Harry gingerly gathered a fold of Snape's robes and pushed it aside as he inched closer cautiously.

"Potter! Don't paw at my robes!"

Harry bit down an angry retort. Snape prodded the parchment sharply with his wand.

"Fine. Now…"

Harry subjected himself to listening to Snape's patronising tones for ten minutes. Afterwards, Snape conjured a copy of the parchment and thrust it at Harry. Then he rose to pour himself some more tea. Harry resisted the overwhelming temptation to make a very rude gesture with his middle finger behind Snape's back.

Truce, he reminded himself. He got up himself and returned to his previous seat.

Snape resumed his own chair.

"I suppose these arrangements will allow us to survive," he said.

Harry maintained his silence, watching the firelight play upon Snape's high arrogant cheekbones and imperious nose. The mouth, though thin, had well-shaped sloping contours. Harry thought that the eyes were Snape's strongest point. Together with his abrasive wit and tongue, they could freeze or roast anyone within a mere second.

Snape turned his head and caught Harry's eye.

"I think that it is my turn to ask you why you are staring at me, Potter."

Harry flushed a little. Snape would know immediately if he was searching for an excuse.

"Well…Why does a wizard like you, with such a lot of skill and power, have so many insecurities?"

For a moment, Snape's eyes blazed, and he leant forward as if to threaten Harry. Then, completely unexpectedly, he laughed and relaxed.

"If it weren't for your frankness, Potter, then you would be in the hospital wing. So. You think I am insecure. Kindly tell me why," he said.

Harry stirred his tea a little before saying softly but clearly:

"You are always so angry."

Snape scanned him penetratingly.

"And you, Potter, are you not angry, after all the Dark Lord did to you and those close to you?"

Harry looked at Snape, surprised.

"Yes. I am. But…I try not to let my anger take over me. Not to shut out the light, however stupid that sounds. And my friends help me. Hogwarts helps me. This is my home. I had no real home before I came here."

And, even more softly:

"Neither, I suppose, did you…"

Snape was silent before saying:

"Yes. This place is more than just a school."

Harry smiled and nodded.

"It is late, Potter," Snape announced, the curtness back in his voice, and Harry stood up. The moment of mutual understanding and agreement had gone.

"Thanks for the tea and biscuits. I'll see you later, then. Good night, Severus."

"Good night, Potter."

Harry managed not to gasp. Snape usually never said "Good night" back. Harry walked towards the door.

"Potter. Your copy."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot.".

Snape held the parchment out to him. Harry received it, and the long piano-trained fingers brushed his. Their eyes met for an instant, black and green, and then the wizards parted, Snape melting into the shadows and Harry thoughtfully walking out into the corridor.

He stayed awake in bed for an hour, thinking of Snape's mysteries and frequently choleric behaviour. Maybe Snape thought he was too young after the incident with the naughty object he had abandoned in _The Three Broomsticks_.

The next morning, he checked his ear eagerly in the mirror. It looked fine, and he followed the instructions in the pamphlet from _Skin Deep_. His mood soared. He became a bit anxious, however, when Dumbledore stood up and announced the opening of the (still nameless) Duelling Club. Leaflets were handed around, and interested students were told to sign up on the notice board.

Needless to say, long queues were standing outside, waiting impatiently to reach the enrolment lists. Harry was walking past when he heard two students laughing wildly about something.

"Ha! Snotter! Snotter Club! Excellent!"

"Wonder how Professor Potter ended up working with that foul-tempered idiot of a Potions Master."

"Yeah, he's such a son of a-"

Harry cleared his throat.

The two students – both Gryffindors– immediately stopped laughing.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for calling Professor Snape rude names in public," Harry said tersely. People swung around to stare at him. The animosity between him and Snape was a firmly established fact at Hogwarts. Why on earth would Professor Potter actually defend his archenemy?

"Professor Snape is one of those without whom Voldemort would still be around," Harry added and walked away from the scene. He didn't notice a tall dark figure staring after him, a strange look in its deep black eyes. The two Gryffindors scampered away, and people returned to chatting and putting down their names on the list. Snape walked swiftly and overtook Harry, hissing over his shoulder:

"I can fight my own battles, Potter."

Harry, startled, looked at him and remarked:

"You can't be everywhere to fight them, Severus."

Snape continued walking quickly.

The name "Snotter Club" unfortunately spread around the school and soon became the established name for the Duelling Club among the students. Peeves helped matters greatly by singing out the name in every corridor he could gain access to.

Snape caught a group of students from his own house talking rudely about the project – and its founders.

"That makes twenty points from Slytherin for insulting both me and Professor Potter in a public school corridor," Snape said suavely, "and detention for all of you."

The group nearly fainted. Snape punishing students from his own House was something practically unheard of.

By the end of the day, both Harry and Snape were thoroughly irritated and tired. It was the right kind of evening to visit En_chant_ments. Although it was a weekday, they both decided to take some time off – without realising that the other wizard had the same plan in mind.

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	15. Chapter 15: Trying to Get Closer

**CHAPTER 15**

A/N: Lots of hugs to you wonderful reviewers! The Pet Shop Boys who are mentioned in this chapter do exist. They rock :-D. Helianthus annuus is the Latin term for "sunflower".

Now, for those of you who asked questions:

ColdomadeusX: Dumbledore doesn't have any piercings…but I do wonder whether that scar which resembles the London Underground may not actually be a tattoo…Harry won't go goth on anyone, but he'll go sexy on…someone.

LynnGryphon: Yes, Snape's piano will be one of the things which bring him and Harry closer.

Chibeh: Harry won't learn how to play the piano. Yet.

Chibi Tsuki Hikari: I am afraid Harry will remain healthy and fit, but towards the end there may be some violence, so…never say never…

LilyJames addict: Harry will sing again, but you've got to wait a little.

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Harry took his Invisibility Cloak just in case, but everyone was friendly to him again since he had kept his word and issued an apology in _The Daily Prophet_. His locker was thankfully empty, allowing him to stow away his cloak and bag. This time, he was wearing one of Mrs Weasley's hand-knitted sweaters and yet another pair of blue jeans. His hair was attractively messy, and his new emerald stud sparkled in his ear. Taking his pass-coin, he sauntered over to _Wizard's Blizzards_, was admitted and went up to the bar to order a drink. Music by the Pet Shop Boys was playing. To his surprise, he found himself face to face with Severus Snape. He was wearing black open robes which shimmered slightly when he moved, and tight black trousers. His hair was very sleek, falling silkily down his back and shoulders.

"Potter," the irritable wizard said resignedly.

"Severus. A pleasant surprise to meet you outside your office and mine for a change."

"It's not as if we have not met here before, Potter," Snape remarked nastily, reminding him of their shameful scuffle.

Harry reddened; but he said cheerfully:

"Let me make it up to you for hexing your hair. Allow me to buy you a drink."

Snape raised his eyebrows and studied Harry's face closely, as if to make sure that Harry was not harbouring other intentions.

"Well, as long as I don't have to pay," he said with exquisite rudeness. Harry managed not to look flustered as he asked Snape what he wanted to drink and ordered the beverages (two Butterbeers – minus the addition of aphrodisiacs). The barkeeper looked at them suspiciously. He obviously recognised them from the fiasco they had caused.

"Please don't destroy anything again, gentlemen," he said in a strict voice.

"Oh no, our issue is settled," Harry said hastily as he paid for the Butterbeers.

"Excellent."

The Butterbeers were brought and placed on a tray.

"Which table, sir?" a waiter asked Snape.

Snape indicated the table of his choice. It was in the corner, away from the attention and noise.

Once ensconced, Harry realised that he was strangely nervous and fidgety.

He raised his glass of Butterbeer.

"To our collaboration and the Duelling Club," he said.

Snape snorted.

"Since you insist on this ridiculous toasting custom, Potter…"

He reluctantly raised his glass, clinked it as quickly as possible with Harry's and sipped his drink. Like last night, Harry could not help studying Snape's sharp features. As Harry had noted before, he was neither repulsive nor especially handsome; but there was something striking, even attractive about him. Alertness and restlessness were constantly written upon the pale thin face, and the eyes, now studying a picture on the wall behind Harry, were large, full and so black that it was nearly impossible to distinguish the pupils from the irises. The hand which held the glass was a hand specially trained in touching and analysing objects and their properties, taking them apart and putting them back together.

The silence between Harry and Snape was becoming tense when a wizard put his hand on Snape's shoulder. Harry recognised him at once. It was the auburn-haired youth who had left Snape standing in the rain. Naturally, he pretended that he had never seen him before. Snape turned.

"Snape," the wizard said, acknowledging Harry's presence with a brief nod.

"I'm finished here," Snape said unceremoniously, rising. Without thanking Harry or looking at him, he left.

Harry felt a strange twinge in the depths of his stomach. Something like…annoyance. And indeed, he was a bit put out. He had bought Snape a drink and been abandoned within five minutes without a word of thanks. And why on earth was he on speaking terms with a wizard who had insulted him? Snape was a man who bore grudges for ages and who was not only proud but also downright arrogant. Harry shut his eyes in horror at what he was going to do.

"Invisibility Cloak," he muttered.

He followed the men out of the club, located the dustbins at once and, feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself for being such a sneaky spy, crouched behind the metal containers.

"So. You changed your mind."

"Yes. No strings attached," Snape replied glacially.

"Fine."

"You're attractive enough when you want to be," the auburn-haired wizard laughed.

Snape grabbed him and pressed him against the wall with his body, his hands pinning the young man's wrists above his head. He was not in the least perturbed by Snape's action:

"Man, you really need it, don't you?"

Snape kissed him brutally.

Harry swallowed as the youth rubbed his hips suggestively against Snape's. It was time to leave. He fled, this time without knocking anything over and having to consequently dislodge someone from the toilet by Misapparating.

His table was still free when he came back, breathing fast. So Snape was sexually frustrated enough to agree to a fling or flings with another wizard. Harry reflected gloomily. What with spying for Dumbledore, teaching etc., Snape must have had no time at all to attend to his basic needs. And why did he, Harry, feel so cross about it all? It was Snape's life and Snape's business.

He hastily finished the remainder of his Butterbeer and left the bar. In his rooms, he scrabbled around frantically and finally found what he was searching for: a Muggle dictaphone. Harry attached a device to it which would enable it to filter and operate on the magic which was omnipresent in the castle. Harry stuffed a cassette into the dictaphone and pressed the recording button. He raised the little machine to his lips, speaking into the microphone.

"It is nearly the end of September. It's a cold Monday evening. And I haven't spoken on tape for a very long time. Now I feel that I have to do so. I have to speak about my ex-teacher, and currently fellow-teacher, Severus Snape."

Harry rose to his feet and went over to the window. Hedwig followed him with her enormous round eyes. As if sensing that he was upset, she flew down to him and nestled against his arm. He smiled and stroked her affectionately.

"I wonder a lot about you, Severus Snape. Gosh, I sound stupid and ridiculous." He laughed. "But then, I am a stupid and ridiculous teenager, after all. Well, let's continue with this monologue. Well, Severus, I wonder how you can go back to a wizard who insulted you. I ask myself whether you laugh, or have ever laughed from your heart, whether you have ever had a truly happy moment in your life."

Harry spoke for nearly forty minutes, finishing a few seconds before it was time to remove the cassette and turn it the other way round. Hedwig and the night listened to him patiently as he mused about Snape's various facets of character.

"I think…I am starting to feel something which I shouldn't feel for you because I know it would be completely unwanted. I want to get close to you, find a way through the walls you have built around you, but you won't let anyone in. Least of all me, the son of the man you hated," Harry concluded. He pressed the stop button.

"I feel better now," he said to Hedwig. She hooted in a comforting manner, nibbled gently at his fingers and tapped at the window. He opened it and she flew out into the night.

"Take care, Hedwig," he called after her.

He removed his home-sneakers and walked around barefoot, searching for his dominoes. He located them on an untidy shelf and started setting them up in the shape of a gigantic S.

The next morning, Snape was in a terrible mood, worse than ever. His eyes flashed fire and he walked into the Great Hall with clenched fists and teeth. He pushed roughly past Flitwick, who nearly fell over with a squeak, and did not bother to apologise to McGonagall when he stepped on the heel of her shoe. Dumbledore's eyes stopped twinkling and something sad crept into them as he watched the Potions Master brutally drag a chair over to the table and sit down.

Breakfast was a jolly meal for the students and for most of the teachers, but not for Harry, Dumbledore or Snape. Harry made an effort to chat merrily with Hagrid, who was wondering about more effective methods of crating Blast-Ended Skrewts and was relieved when breakfast was over. When he saw Snape get up, he rose too, excusing himself. He hurried after him, and in the corridor, called his name.

Snape whirled around.

"What is it, Potter?" he snapped.

Harry approached him, feeling for something in his pocket.

"Here. Take them. They help when I'm feeling down. They really do." He smiled and poured some sunflower seeds into Snape's hand.

Snape snarled:

"If this is some idiotic joke-"

"It is not. I-" he hesitated, not wanting to reveal that he knew about Snape and the auburn-haired wizard, whose arrangement had apparently gone terribly wrong.

"I haven't got all day, Potter. Spit it out before I fling this stupid birdfeed in your face."

Harry locked eyes with Snape.

"During the last stage of the battle against Voldemort, when everything seemed dark and suffocating, Hermione told me that sunflowers always attempt to turn towards the sun, regardless of the weather. I know how silly and banal it sounds to you, but-" here he placed his hand on Snape's arm "-it helps when you think of it."

Snape studied him with an expressionless face.

"And why are you telling me this? Why would you care, famous Potter?"

"I never liked fame, Severus. And I care because I am working with you now like I worked with you during the battle. I care because you have saved my life more than once. And I care because I know what it is like to have no friends or a proper family."

Harry wanted to say more but was did not wish to risk cross a potentially dangerous border. The unspoken message, _I know that you are suffering and I am not indifferent to it_, was transmitted with his eyes instead. He took a deep breath, pressed Snape's arm gently and walked away.

Snape stared. Then he opened his fist and looked at the sunflower seeds. His eyes shifted to Harry's retreating back. He transferred the seeds to an inside pocket.

"Severus? Is something wrong, my boy?" Dumbledore was standing at his elbow, his blue gaze x-raying Snape.

"I'm fine, Albus," Snape said shortly and left. Dumbledore bent and picked up something from the floor.

It was a sunflower seed. Dumbledore suddenly smiled, and it was an optimistic smile.

That evening, Alexander, Snape's owl, fluttered into Harry's rooms with a tiny note. Harry laughed when he read the following succinct sentence:

_I regard "Helianthus" as an adequate name for the Duelling Club, Potter._

_Severus Snape  
_

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	16. Chapter 16: Subtle Vibes

**CHAPTER 16**

A/N: Thank you for your reviews, you wonderful readers!

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The opening of the Duelling Club was accomplished amidst much excitement on the part of the students and trepidation on the part of the Harry and Snape. The teachers had their separate classrooms. They were, naturally, relieved about this. Teaching together would have probably resulted in creating conflicts instead of solving them. On the other hand, maybe they would have worked well enough together; because, after teaching a horde of eager students who wrecked half the classroom and incinerated each other's robes for the very first time, Snape approached Harry. The former was looking extremely indignant and the latter was surrounded by the penetrating smell of burnt cloth. Snape came straight to the point although he did wrinkle his nose at the odour:

"I left rather abruptly that day in the bar, Potter. I suggest that we continue discussing the Club in En_chant_ments, for a change. The drinks are on me. And, Potter, please stop staring at me like that. I have not sprouted a second head."

Harry flushed and laughed a little.

"Well…Uh…Yeah, great, I'd like that, Severus. Thank you."

"How articulate," Snape murmured.

Harry grinned. It was Snape's way of apologising to Harry and trying to show that it was not an apology. Obviously, Snape was not at all used to apologising to people.

"Oh, by the way, thanks for your note. I like your suggestion."

"It was meant to be a joke, Potter. Do you really think I would want those brats to think of a sunflower instead of a Duelling Club?"

"What an overwhelming sense of humour you have, Severus. So when shall we meet up do discuss the further development of the Club and to exchange feedback?"

"Saturday evening at eight o'clock sharp, Potter. At the gates. Don't be late."

He nodded curtly and strode away.

In the meantime, Hermione was travelling around in Switzerland: her Ministry work required her to visit the headquarters in Basle with the aim of negotiating contracts with a group of no-nonsense Swiss wizards. The Wizarding community in Basle was tiny and bore the local name of "Rhyhäxerei" – Swiss German for "Rhine Wizardry". The national Ministry itself was officially called "Amt für Zauberei" – High German for "Ministry of Magic", and had equivalent translations in the other national languages. Hermione sent Harry a long note about her activities in Switzerland and a small parcel with two tired screech owls. The parcel contained a recipe for cheese fondue, a box of what were called "Basler Leckerli" – Basle Cookies consisting of cinnamon, honey, sugar and other nice spices, among other things. Hermione had also included a cuckoo clock. According to her, cuckoo clocks were very expensive, but she had received two clocks for free, so she was sending him one. Harry, delighted, decided to attach the clock to the wall later. As for the fondue: he would try concocting one as an experiment one of these days. Hermione sternly reminded him not to delegate this task to the already overworked house-elves in her letter. Harry was unsure whether he was keener on meeting Snape in Hogsmeade or on unleashing his rudimentary culinary skills. What he could definitely show off was the excellent state of his new ear piercing. On the evening of his meeting with Snape, he replaced his stud with the ring of white gold and checked himself critically in the mirror. He raised his hand to his hair and his mirror sighed.

"Dear, I have already told you that you should leave it alone."

"It's a habit," Harry said, running his hand through his hair anyway.

The wizards met at the Hogwarts gates.

Harry was not able to explain why he suddenly discovered his cheeks to be rather hot. It was dark, but he could feel Snape's keen eyes on him; and he was certain that the observant Slytherin had glanced at his earring as well.

"Not bad, Potter. Punctual."

Harry smiled at him.

"Shall we go?"

"Why else would we be out here, Potter? What an imbecile question."

Harry laughed, and Snape glared at him.

"I am starting to appreciate your sense of humour, Severus."

"About high time, Potter."

They left, wrapping their cloaks closely around them.

Up, from a high window in the castle, Dumbledore watched them with a small smile on his face.

Once at the bar, things seemed to start off rather badly. They had just entered _Wizard's Blizzards_ when the auburn-haired wizard walked towards Snape and Harry. A spark of irritation leapt up in the region of Harry's chest. Irrititation verging on...No, it couldn't be jealousy, could it?

Snape stiffened.

"You!" he spat as if he had seen something very disgusting indeed.

"Yessir, me."

He turned to Harry.

"I'm Lucifer, by the way. Not my real name. Just assumed. I'm a devil when it comes to loving, you know. Oh yeah, honey."

He winked at Harry, who was not at all impressed.

"Guy can't make up his mind you know. First he's like, no way I'm going to have some fun with you with no strings attached, and then he goes, yeah, okay, no strings attached, and after that he reverses his decision. Ha!"

Harry looked at him coldly.

"This is a matter between you and my colleague, and you shouldn't be telling me this. It is in the worst possible taste, and humiliating."

"Oho."

Lucifer turned back to Snape and sang out, sticking his tongue in his cheek:

"Prude loser."

Snape became even paler with rage. Harry sensed that another fight would break out if he didn't intervene. He concentrated hard. Snape stared at the bright neon-yellow shade the wizard's hair had become and then looked at Harry, who nonchalantly touched Snape's arm and moved with him towards the bar. A few seconds later, a furious yell reached their ears.

"MY HAIR!"

Some of the guests began to laugh loudly and point. Snape actually smirked.

"Quite passable, Potter. Better than orange."

Harry laughed.

"Glad you like it, Severus. He deserves worse, though."

Snape looked at him curiously.

"How can you say?"

"He reminds of a, uh, a few people I can't stand."

"Draco Malfoy, by any chance, Potter?" Snape said shrewdly.

"Well, yeah. For example."

"Anyone else?"

"My cousin Dudley."

Snape's black eyes locked with Harry's. He had seen enough memories during the notorious Occlumency lessons to know who Dudley was.

"I am not surprised, Potter."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HAIR, YOU FU-"

A couple of wizards, led by the barkeeper, grabbed Lucifer and dragged him out.

"Potter, you are contributing significantly to the loss of this bar's clientele."

"How come? We two are still around," Harry remarked.

This time, besides ordering Butterbeer, they also succumbed to a small mountain of delicious-looking titbits – bits of pastry stuffed with various kinds of meats, nuts and fruit.

Snape, whose appetite was ever small, ate little.

"Come on, Severus, you must eat more. They're so tasty."

"You're still a growing boy, Potter. I have finished that stage."

Harry was about to say that Snape looked too thin but remembered that he was sitting opposite a highly sensitive and insecure man.

"I guess you have a point," he agreed instead.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Weren't you about to say something along the lines of me being too thin?"

Harry looked at him, startled.

"Er…you're not performing Legilimency on me, are you?"

Snape actually laughed.

"No, Potter, I am not. But most people comment on my figure when I say that I don't eat much."

"I was about to do so myself, but I didn't think it would be very polite."

"I must admit that you are more honest as a teacher than you were as a student. And infinitely more polite, Potter. Manners were never a very strong point of yours."

"Well, Severus, I somehow had to get through your classes as a student," Harry responded cheekily.

"Have you still got that blasted map of Hogwarts?" Snape asked with a glint in his eyes.

"Yeah. Would you like to borrow it?" Inwardly, Harry smacked himself a hundred times. Are you crazy, Harry? What on earth do you think you're doing?

"I'll accept your offer if I think it necessary to make use of it."

Halfway through their Butterbeers, Snape excused himself to go to the toilet.

Coming back, Snape paused behind an enormous dusty potted plant and studied the young man intensely. He was sipping at his Butterbeer with a pensive expression on his face; but the thoughtfulness was more of a happy nature than of a despondent one.

"What are you hiding behind me for? Go back and get into that young man's robes, you funk!" the plant snapped at him.

"No one calls me a funk – least of all a wretched _plant_!" Snape growled between clenched teeth. He drew out his wand and the plant burst into flames. He retreated hastily; a couple of people nearby stood up in shock and proceeded to extinguish the unhappy plant as quickly as possible. After that, if Snape happened to be in its proximity, it would curl up its leaves in pathetic terror and shudder violently.

The Potions Master returned to his table and sat down again opposite Harry.

"Someone has bewitched the toilet seats to do more than remind people to be clean," he observed.

Harry frowned.

"Why? What are they doing now?"

"They are making personal remarks about certain parts of the male anatomy."

Harry stared.

"Oh boy. Tonks is going to hit the ceiling. I had better tell her."

"I don't think there's any need for that, Potter. I passed a group of very offended wizards who were searching for her to, ah, notify her about the issue. Now, about the Duelling Club. I am intrigued to learn about your singed robes."

Harry did not fail to detect an undertone of glee in the last sentence. Snape was Snape, after all. He resignedly extracted a folder and proceeded to tell Snape about his first lesson. Snape took the opportunity to be tremendously critical and disapproving of Harry's teaching method.

"You should not pair up friends, Potter. In real Duelling situations, it is a rather rare occurrence for friends to start killing each other."

"Unless they've turned enemies."

"Don't be smart with me, Potter. You did not pair up enemies."

"No – not like you did years ago with Malfoy and me. Still, I've got to be grateful to you, Severus. I wouldn't have discovered my linguistic faculties without your help."

"I will send you a crate of cobras one day and see if you can charm them with your special Parseltongue abilities," Snape said cuttingly.

Harry hastily turned the conversation to safer grounds. He sensed that Snape, in spite of knowing bits concerning Harry's unhappy family life, was still fiercely jealous of him and bitter about his fame, all the while ignoring the fact that Harry did anything but revel in glory.

Their meeting ended peacefully enough, and Harry did not forget to thank Snape for the Butterbeer and titbits when they parted in the castle. Snape responded with a derisive snort and glided away.

If Harry had turned around, he would have noticed Snape throwing a last glance at him over his shoulder.

On Sunday afternoon, Harry decided to try out Hermione's cheese fondue recipe. His rooms, chic as they were, did not lack a kitchenette, and Harry had ordered the necessary ingredients from Hogsmeade. Midway through the recipe, he came to the discouraging conclusion that the recipe was not for beginners. He had just added more alcohol to the frankly alarming mixture in the pot when there was a loud knock on his door. Harry lowered the heat with his wand and jogged to the door.

"Who is it?" he shouted.

"Severus Snape. Do you really think that bull's eye in your door is for decoration, Potter?"

Flustered and overwhelmed, Harry opened the door.

"I thought you preferred Floo powder."

"I felt magnanimous enough to not dirty your carpet with ash, and to adapt to your own humble mode of seeking my rooms."

"Er, please come in. So, uh, what's up? Any news about Bellatrix and the escaped Death Eaters?"

Snape sneered at his clumsy greeting and whisked inside. Harry cursed himself as he blushed and found himself checking out Snape's hair approvingly.

"This has nothing to do with any Death Eaters. I came here to…Potter, what on earth is that repulsive reek?"

---


	17. Chapter 17: A Spark of Sensuality

A/N:  
Tri Mriel: "Basle" is the English spelling of "Basel"...and yes, I know that those sweets are called "Leckerli"...or "Läckerli" or "Läggerli"...but not everyone can know that, can they? ;-) Hence "Basle Cookies".

xxx

**CHAPTER 17**

Snape was staring at Harry, waiting for an answer.

"I'm trying to make cheese fondue," Harry said, feeling angry with Snape as well as mortified. To make matters even more uncomfortable, Snape had caught him wearing a T-shirt which he usually didn't display to the public. The T-shirt read: I AM FEELING GAY TODAY.

Snape showed no sign that he had seen this interesting statement. He stroked the corner of his mouth with a critical finger.

"Why didn't you ask the house elves to prepare this intriguing dish?"

"Hermione told me that I should try making it myself and that it would be unfair to give the elves more work than they already have, and she has a point. So I thought...Yeah."

He gestured towards the kitchen.

To Harry's horror, Snape glided past him wordlessly into the kitchenette, where he heard him gagging. Harry followed him inside and found the ill-tempered man pinching his hooked nose closed.

"Potter, that dish smells of old socks, and it doesn't even look good," Snape said crushingly.

"Oh." Harry looked rather crestfallen, "well, I realised that I was doing a few things wrong."

"A few things? Your abysmal Potions-brewing abilities are no mystery to me any longer after seeing your, ah, culinary skills."

"Well, how about if you made the fondue?" Harry snapped.

"Potter, I have Potions to brew, not cheese fondues. This noxious mixture could have felled the Dark Lord without question."

"Thanks for the compliment," Harry retorted sarcastically, trying to imagine Voldemort retching into a cauldron filled with a badly prepared cheese fondue.

Their discourse was interrupted by the new cuckoo clock striking five o'clock. Harry had stuck it to the kitchen wall. Snape glared as the bird shot in and out of the bird-hole. He took out his wand, and, with a murmured spell, caused the bird to fall off the end of the spring which propelled it forwards and backwards.

"Hey! Hermione gave that to me! Why would you want to Duel against a perfectly harmless clock?" Harry exclaimed crossly.

"I have never seen such a ridiculous object before."

"Look, these are my rooms, not yours! You can't just go destroying other people's things just because you don't like them, one would think the whole castle belonged to you. _Reparo!_"

The bird flew back onto the spring and the clock fell silent.

Snape smirked.

"It's a genuinely Swiss-made handicraft-"

"Potter, that stuff is meant for tourists."

"Well, Hermione is a tourist in Switzerland at the moment. She sent me this as well, and you can't deny its usefulness, even though it is not a magical object!"

Harry held up a Swiss army knife. He had been about to dispose of the parcel when the owl had nipped him sharply on the wrist, directing his attention to a small wrapped object he had overseen, and which was covered by tissue paper.

"You won't be able to break into my rooms or office with that thing, Potter. My rooms are warded. Contrary to yours."

"You're paranoid."

"You're sloppy."

"I'm not!"

"You are. What a lot of defense measures you're taking. I am overwhelmed."

The two men glared at each other. Then Harry said with a sigh:

"You're impossible, Severus. How about eating the Basle Cookies Hermione sent me? They're said to be delicious."

"I must admit that I have never tasted those sweets before," Snape confessed, Vanishing the fondue in Harry's cooking pot.

"You're a lot like Hermione. You're so bossy."

Snape snorted and leant against the counter while Harry summoned the box of cookies to him and removed the lid and plastic wrapping with a flick of his wand. The sweets were rectangular, freckled with grey and dark-brown on the surface. They looked delectable. Harry held one out to Snape and discovered a shiver running down his back when the long fingers touched his.

He distracted himself by helping himself to a cookie and biting into it. If he thought that Hagrid's rock cakes were hard, then he was mistaken. Snape's thoughts obviously ran along the same lines.

"Potter, did Miss Granger send a hammer along with these toffees?"

Harry went very red.

"Er, she didn't tell me that they were so hard."

Snape picked up the leaflet which contained an English translation of some of the ingredients.

"Honey, sugar, cinnamon?" Snape snorted. "Those people don't know how to brew the correct mixture properly."

"Severus, maybe you could open a sweet shop, specialising in Swiss goodies."

"Don't be a fool, Potter."

"I was joking, Severus."

"Imbecile sense of humour," Snape growled acidly.

Harry cleared his throat.

"I was about to make some tea. I'll make you a cup, and we can dip the cookies in the tea. Because they do taste very good, it's just the consistency."

He could have sworn that Snape's mouth quirked a little.

"Now, Potter, that is rather barbaric."

"It isn't. It's simply a solution."

"Well, for the sake of my teeth…"

Harry bustled about, getting the tea ready. Snape, naturally, did not do the polite thing and sit near the fireplace. Instead, he idly watched Harry hurry around nervously.

Harry looked at him and Snape looked back, his lip curling.

At last, the tea was ready and Harry, endeavouring to be the elegant host, led Snape out of the kitchen, saucers, cups, spoons, plates, serviettes and cookies on a silver tray.

Harry set down the tray and wanted to go back to the kitchen to fetch some sugar; but he walked into Snape instead.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot the sugar," he muttered.

Snape didn't reply and instead gave Harry an intense stare which rooted Harry to the spot.

They gazed at each other, Harry becoming increasingly flushed, Snape in perfect control of the whole situation. He bent his head a little, since he was a lot taller than Harry. Harry looked up at him. His whole body felt hot, and unknown desires began to stir in him. Snape's face was very close. His lips nearly brushed Harry's as he slowly approached them to Harry's ear – the one with the earring – and breathed:

"Well, what about that sugar, Potter?"

Harry jumped.

"I…Uh…I'm…getting it," he stammered, sprinting into the kitchen. Snape watched him with a faint smile on his lips.

In the kitchenette, Harry fought for his composure. His body was reacting in a variety of ways which were causing him a lot of embarrassment and which made him wish he had worn robes after all. He tugged at his jeans and bit down a moan as it only increased the friction. With unsteady hands, he opened one of the cupboards and took out the sugar bowl.

He rushed back and found Snape occupying the sofa, his long legs stretched and one arm resting on top of the back. His dusky hair shone in the firelight.

Harry thought he looked sensual. Erotic. He swallowed and added the bowl to the tray. He poured the tea and levitated the cookie plate to Snape.

Snape took a cookie silently and dipped it into his tea. Harry grinned.

"I agree that it is not a bad solution, even thought it lacks deplorably in social sophistication," Snape remarked dryly, chewing his sweet.

"So…Uh…What can I do to help you, Severus?"

"Actually, I came here to help you, Potter."

"Oh? Erm, well, that's nice of you. Thank you."

"Obviously, you are extremely young to teach Duelling classes, regardless of your experience. I mentioned this to the Headmaster. He has suggested that I teach you how to teach. I agreed, insufferable though you may be, Potter."

"You agreed after all those Occlumency lessons?" Harry laughed.

"Yes, Potter. You were not too moronic when we had to work against the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort. Now that he's dead-"

"Don't say the name, Potter!" Snape snarled.

"Why not? And why are you, of all people, afraid to say it?"

"Of all people?"

"You're brave!"

"Then how come I am not in Gryffindor, Potter?"

Harry leant back.

"Did Dumbledore ever tell you that the Hat wanted to put me in your House?"

Snape nodded slightly.

"You see, our Houses don't make us what we are. Wasn't Pettigrew a Gryffindor?"

Snape studied him for a few moments.

"That was worthy of Miss Granger's logic, Potter," he remarked.

Harry blushed incredulously. Praise from Snape! He enthusiastically took a Basle Cookie and dipped it in his tea. Snape suddenly rose.

"Please be so kind as to dispose of that infernal cookie and come over here."

Harry obeyed, wondering what Snape was going to submit him to.

"Now, when you taught your students how to Duel, where were you?"

"In the classroom with them, of course."

"Were you in the middle of the room? In the corner? Where exactly?" Snape barked impatiently.

"In the corner, most of the time, that way there was room for the students. And I would go from group to group now and then."

"No! You must not stand in the corner watching! It is important that you move among the students, but that is not sufficient. Here, let me show you…dense teenager…"

He placed his hand on the small of Harry's back and propelled him towards the middle of the room.

"You have to be in the centre, the students around you. That way, everyone can see you. Do you think your brain cells can absorb this absurdly simple piece of information, Potter?"

Harry's green eyes flashed as he glowered at Snape.

"Good. And please do us all a favour by reading this book."

He extracted a thin volume from underneath his robes.

"I sacrificed some of my precious time to write down the following guidelines for you. I will be present during your next lesson to see how you manage…or do not manage. I suppose it is an advantage that our lessons do not take place simultaneously all the time."

"Thanks," Harry said coolly. Snape sent the book to sit on one of Harry's bookshelves.

"Another thing, Potter, before I leave your messy quarters."

He approached Harry and stretched out a tapering index finger, stroking the earring gently. Harry's heart was pounding. The finger travelled languidly over his earlobe and down his neck until it reached the collar of his T-shirt.

"Make sure that that earring does not catch anywhere, Potter," Snape whispered.

It was happening again, that tension, the desire to…Then Snape let out a low laugh, gave Harry a contemptuous glance and walked away, flipping his hair over his shoulder. A few strands brushed Harry's cheek and ear.

"Good night, Potter."

The door closed before Harry could answer. The young man shook his head slowly and sat down on the carpet.

"Oh my God. I can't believe it…I just can't…" His voice trailed away, but his mind continued. I can't believe I'm starting to find Severus Snape sexually attractive...


	18. Chapter 18: Breaking the Truce

**CHAPTER 18**

A/N:  
Source of Silence: about your question regarding who will be submissive and who will be dominant. Well – if the two of them do end up getting together…maybe they could take turns at being dominant and submissive :-D On the other hand, my friend told me that she had read that dominant people liked to be dominated in bed. Ahem.

Maybe you guys could help both me and Source of Silence out…Who should be the dominant resp. submissive guy?

---

Harry went for his next Duelling lesson with trepidation. Snape would be there. Scores of butterflies suddenly began to flap around in his stomach.

"Pull yourself together," he muttered to himself. He opened the door to his classroom. Snape was already there, sitting comfortably in a chair, a long finger playing with a strand of long black hair.

"Wow. Early. Ready to belittle me in front of the student body?" Harry asked him crossly.

"Yes, Potter. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to doing just that."

Harry sighed and sat down next to Snape.

"How's your piano-playing going?" he asked.

"Trying to make small talk with me, Potter?"

"No. I am genuinely interested, especially after hearing you play when the piano was tuned."

Silence. Then:

"I, uh, actually wouldn't mind hearing you play some more."

Snape's black eyes travelled slowly across Harry's face. Harry stared back determinedly.

"I usually don't play to an audience."

"You made an exception in En_chant_ments. And I wasn't there to witness it."

"I am sure even someone like you must be knowing about sound storage media – the Muggle and the wizarding types. The difference is rather small."

"It's not the same thing. The piano player can't be seen."

Snape inclined his head towards Harry.

"May I ask you something, Potter?" His voice was eerily soft and velvety. Familiar. Close. Confidential.

"Yeah, go ahead," Harry answered, feeling uneasy.

"Are you, as is said in informal parlance nowadays, trying to hit on me?"

Harry went red and left his chair at once.

"Wh-what?"

Snape laughed mockingly.

"Come on, Potter. I am sure you are not as hard of hearing as you pretend to be."

"What makes you ask me such a question?" Harry said, trying to get more time.

Snape rose and came close to Harry, who refused to back away.

"Answering a question with another question is not my preferred line of discourse, Potter."

"Look, I can teach this Duelling class on my own," Harry said furiously.

"Ah now, Potter. Remember that I discussed this with the Headmaster."

"How come he didn't discuss it with me? I am no longer a student!"

"Why don't you ask him that?"

A group of students entered the classroom, and Harry quickly stepped away. They were both silent, Harry trying not to pace up and down while the room filled rapidly. Snape watched him, his mouth curved in a smile which bode no good. As soon as everyone was present, Snape stepped next to Harry and addressed the class, thus undermining Harry's authority.

"I am simply here to watch how you, and especially how, ah, _Professor_ Potter perform."

Harry gritted his teeth and somehow managed to smile lightly at the class. Keeping Snape's words from their last meeting in mind, he made sure to separate friends and pair people together with fellow-students they were not familiar with – he didn't know as yet who didn't get on well with the other.

Snape watched on with narrowed eyes. The lesson went off very well. Harry started with a few theories before moving on to the practical part. There were a few accidents caused by wrong spells or the occasional misaimed jinx, but this was entirely normal and Snape did not interrupt once. Harry heaved a sigh of relief, praised their efforts, told them what to pay attention to and dismissed the class. As they gathered their bags, Harry turned to walk back to his desk and bumped into Snape instead – for the second time during the same week.

"I know your preference for men, Potter, but there is really no need to walk into me in order to expand your flirting strategies," Snape said loudly.

There was a ringing silence in the classroom. Students stopped what they were doing and stared, looking from Snape to Harry and back.

Harry went pale with fury. He rounded on the class.

"I said that the lesson was over."

A rapid shuffling and scuffling ensued. The students hurried away, leaving Harry and Snape face to face.

"Right," Harry said in a low angry voice. "Thank you for exposing me like that. Thank you so much. I thought we were starting to get along together. You know, I could have told the class that you prefer young wizards in their twenties. Lucifer was the name, wasn't it?"

"And you didn't do it. You're supposed to be a Gryffindor, Potter. Where's that bravery?"

Harry's eyes flashed.

"Yes. I could have exposed you. Except that I didn't want to sink to your level of the bad taste you just displayed."

"How noble, Potter. True. That is a Gryffindor trait. I am sure you know that there is nothing…wrong…with your preferences," Snape said, clearly enjoying Harry's anger.

"But not everyone views it that way, damn it! There's homophobia everywhere, Muggle world, magical world – everywhere! You can be sure that it'll be splashed over the newspapers the next day!"

Snape cupped Harry's chin in his hand.

"Potter, you are famous. Be happy that another wave of attention is coming your way."

He released Harry.

Harry stared at him, his eyes suddenly stinging with tears.

"And…I was hoping we could put aside our differences. I was even hoping that…we could become friends…"

Snape's smile faded and he turned his eyes away from Harry's face abruptly.

"Why did you do it, Severus? Why did you…out me like this?"

Snape began to laugh.

"Famous Harry Potter. Professor Potter," he spat. "I'm sick of it. Everything just falls into your lap, doesn't it?"

"You did it because you're jealous? That has to be the stupidest joke I have ever heard!" Harry shouted. "You know that I've not had a fairytale life! Tell me, who would want Voldemort as an enemy? If you're sick of my fame, then you ought to know that I've always been sick of it as well!"

He gave Snape a hard stare before picking up his bag.

"I was beginning to appreciate certain traits of yours. Fuck you, why did you have to smash up our truce?"

He stamped out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

Harry's fears were right. The very next day, _The Daily Prophet_ bore the crushing headlines: HARRY POTTER OUTED AS GAY: SHOCK FOR WIZARDING WORLD!

Harry flung down the paper and glared at Snape at the staff table.

"This is your doing, Severus. Thanks a million!" he hissed.

Dumbledore suddenly looked very tired.

"Severus, Harry, please come to my office before dinner."

The session in Dumbledore's office was one of the most humiliating ones Harry had ever undergone; but it was Snape in whom Dumbledore was principally disappointed.

"It is best if the Duelling Club is shut down and the project scrapped," Dumbledore concluded. "I have realised that there is no way you two are ever going to put your differences aside. Severus, you are obviously never ever going to let go of the past. I was mistaken in my optimism. Mea culpa, gentlemen. I don't wish to dismiss either of you. Therefore, you and I and the rest of Hogwarts will just have to manage with your conflict. Good night."

His gaze was sad as he got up slowly and went into an inner room, quietly shutting the door. Fawkes, too, left his perch, thus showing his disapproval about the whole situation.

Snape and Harry didn't dare exchange any glances or words.

They retired to their respective beds, ashamed, unhappy and confused.

---


	19. Chapter 19: Sunrise With Snape

**CHAPTER 19**

Harry hardly slept at all that night. He succumbed to a restless sleep towards dawn but woke up from a dream in which he saw Snape standing opposite him, simply looking at him without feeling on his face, without speaking; yet his black eyes seemed to tell him something.

_I have built impenetrable walls around me in order to be utterly independent. Now watch me destroy myself, watch me suffocate in my self-imposed isolation._

Harry moved towards Snape and took his face in his hands.

_Let me in, then! Why did you have to slam the door in my face and make me slam the door in your face in return? Let me in. Please give me a chance._

Their lips approached and-

Harry awoke with a start, snapping up into a sitting position.

"Great," he muttered, "really great."

His relationship with Snape resembled a roller coaster. Just when he thought that he was about to find a way to the man, he would be kicked out. But then, maybe that was why it had happened. Perhaps Snape had realised that the son of the man he had hated was different – good-natured, unspoiled and, though quick to anger, just as quick to forgive. And he had felt too uneasy at the prospect of Harry James Potter as a…friend.

Harry checked his clock on the nightstand. It was only five-thirty in the morning. The whole castle was probably still fast asleep. Except perhaps for Severus Snape, Dumbledore and the ghosts. And some of the house-elves.

Harry sighed and went to the bathroom to freshen up. The mirror began to cough underneath the layer of steam which formed as the hot drops ran over his body.

"Dear, I'm choking!" it wheezed when Harry stepped out, a towel around his waist.

"Sorry," Harry yawned.

He opened the window a little and dressed. The mirror was clear by then and he studied his face closely.

"You do have a right to be narcissistic," his mirror chuckled.

"Narcissistic? Come on, I've never given much thought about what I look like."

"Until now, dear."

Harry flushed.

"You could have anyone you want, sweetie, even many at the same time."

"But I want only someone. I want to be committed and faithful to one person."

"That someone is going to be a very lucky person," his mirror said happily.

With a laugh, Harry opened the window fully and went to the bedroom.

He stretched. He wanted to take a walk outside, enjoy the frosty fresh air. He would fly around on his broom later, too. He had done so now and then in the late evening, when he knew that he would be alone and unwatched, going for a little ride over the grounds and surrounding area. For now, he just wanted to get his energy flowing, get moving.

Munching a few sunflower seeds and stuffing a packet of them into his jeans pocket, he wondered whether everyone was indeed sleeping. He didn't wish to be interrupted during a morning stroll. He took out the Map, tapped it, spoke the necessary words and watched in silent fascination as all the corridors unfolded on it. They were empty – or so it seemed at first sight. Harry laughed softly when he noticed a dot labelled with the name of the Potions Master pacing around on the third floor. Where the piano-room was. As he watched, the dot finally seemed to make up its mind, vanishing – probably using one of the castle's various shortcuts and magical tapestries – to appear on the ground floor. It moved towards the main exit. Snape had evidently suffered from insomnia as well. Harry closed the Map and stood up. He would go out just the same. Go out and try to talk to the man – not accuse him or lose his temper with him. Harry wrapped his cloak around himself, warded his rooms and headed for the main entrance of the castle.

It was still dark outside, but he could see that Snape was indeed standing in the open, leaning against the gate. Like Harry, he was wearing a cloak to protect him from the cold. He turned.

"You," he said softly, noticing Harry.

Harry walked over to Snape slowly and leant against the gate as well.

"I couldn't sleep," he said.

"You were always one to stay awake at nights and doze in lessons," Snape remarked caustically.

"Morning grouch."

Snape showed no sign of offense.

"The sun will rise in forty-five minutes," he said. Harry was puzzled. It sounded like a completely irrelevant thing for Snape to say.

"Do you like watching the sun rise?" he asked

"Yes," the Slytherin answered gruffly. A frosty wind blew a strand of hair across his face, and he stroked it back impatiently with a slender hand.

"So…What do we do now, Severus?" he inquired.

Snape didn't look at him.

"What Dumbledore said. We shut down the Duelling Club and cancel the project."

"I don't want that to happen," Harry said. "I want it to continue. With you. I can't do this alone."

This time, Snape looked at him, then laughed quietly.

"I should have known that you wouldn't give up so easily."

"I can't. Not after the effort you and I have put into it. Are you willing to continue this project with me, Severus?"

Snape moved his eyes away from Harry, letting them drift around the surrounding landscape. Everything was shrouded in darkness, but there was something in the air which bespoke of the approaching sunrise – something like a thrill, or even a touch.

"I didn't know you had such a forgiving and submissive nature, Potter."

"Submissiveness and forgiveness are not synonyms at all, Severus. You know it. But I don't want to be in constant conflict with you. I have told you more than once why I want a truce with you. Or…as I said yesterday, something like friendship. I used to judge you. I try not to do so any longer. But you still judge me, and you don't even really know what I'm like, or who I really am."

Snape was silent for a few moments before saying:

"Give me time until the sun rises. Then I will reveal my answer to you. Till then, you may stay here, but please do not speak to me. I want quiet."

He sat down on the stair. Harry followed his movement, forgetting about strolling around. He took out the packet of sunflower seeds and held them out to Snape.

Snape gave him an incredulous stare.

"Before I am completely silent: let me assure you that they're not poisoned," Harry said with a small smile, "not to say that you wouldn't deserve being a bit poisoned after what you did yesterday."

"At least the witches can turn their attention elsewhere," Snape commented; however, he accepted a large handful of seeds. To Harry's surprise, and also delight, he did not shell them with a charm. Instead, he peeled them deftly with his tapering fingers, putting the empty husks next to him in a tidy pile. The minutes which followed were strange to Harry. There was no startling incident; but sitting on the stair next to Snape, eating sunflower seeds without a word, was odd enough. He could not help glancing from time to time at Snape, who seemed absorbed in listening to the nocturnal sounds around them. There was a rustle in a bush as a bird hopped out, followed by another. They stood still for a moment, their beady eyes flitting around. Then, all of a sudden, they took wing, climbing up into the sky. Somewhere far away, a robin started to sing. Harry began to understand the subtle charm of the early morning. He flushed when he realised that the charm was deepened by the presence of Snape so close to him. When they were finished with their sunflower seeds, Harry Vanished both their piles.

Soon, a tinge of timid colour appeared in the sky. The clouds became suffused with a dark-pink; the darkness and the hush of the night began to lift. A keen morning wind blew. Snape reached for his wand and passed it over his eyes and Harry's with a murmured incantation. In answer to Harry's questioning glance, he said:

"To minimise any potential risk of damaging your eyesight."

"Thank you, Severus."

They watched the sunrise. It was a sunrise out of goodness knows how many sunrises; nevertheless, it was special for Harry because of the whole situation. Because of Severus Snape's proximity. A morning mist hung over the brightening grounds. More birds were singing.

With another murmur, Snape repeated the gesture with his wand, removing the protective spell. The two wizards now gazed at each other for a long moment until Snape put his hand on Harry's eyes. Harry didn't move; he sat still, mesmerised. Snape's fingers gently moved Harry's cloak-collar aside, exposing his neck. He breathed upon the skin, and the tiny hairs on that spot trembled excitedly. With his knuckle, he nudged Harry's earring in a nearly playful manner. Harry almost forgot to breathe. Snape drew back, the collar sliding up again, his hand still covering Harry's eyes. Harry nearly jumped when he felt something soft and warm brush his autumn-cold lips lightly and swiftly; the world seemed to stop rotating when he instinctively realised that it was Snape's lips which had brushed against his. His heart raced; his body teemed with desire. A satiny whisper floated into his parted mouth:

"The answer is yes."

Snape removed his hand. Harry blinked and found himself captivated anew by the black eyes which met his.

"Breakfast must be ready," Snape informed him, his voice no longer low, but still maintaining that sensual quality.

Harry had expected Snape to stand up and go indoors without waiting for him, but he didn't. He only rose when Harry got up, his heart beating quickly. They went into the hall. There were only very few students – they were probably getting ready for Quidditch Practice. Of the staff, only Dumbledore was present. His eyes twinkled when he saw Snape and Harry walking towards him, who resumed their usual seats on either side of him.

"Good morning, my boys," he said cheerfully. The disappointment which had coated his voice during the meeting in his office was absent.

"Potter and I have decided to continue with the Duelling Club," Snape informed him without delay.

Harry added:

"The training of the students has priority over our personal conflicts, which we have resolved for the timebeing."

"Brilliant! I am delighted to hear this! Couldn't have wished for a better start of the day," Dumbledore beamed. Even his beard emanated bliss.

How is it that I am discovering my sexuality because of _Snape_, of all people? Harry thought disbelievingly as he helped himself to fried eggs and bacon. Dumbledore gave him a small smile which seemed strangely knowing, and Harry could not help blushing slightly.

---

A/N: I was thinking of the "almost-kiss" between Louis and Armand in Neil Jordan's film _Interview with the Vampire_ – a moment which has always fascinated me; and I decided to base the frequently volatile mood of this story on Tchaikovsky's "Romeo and Juliet" besides on Roxette's "Crash Boom Bang". Hope you guys enjoyed the style of this chapter!

AND I wanted to thank your for your votes concerning the dominant/submissive issue. There was complete consensus among you: Harry should be submissive and Snape dominant :-D Well…let's see…I may follow this pattern…Or not.


	20. Chapter 20: Consolation

**CHAPTER 20**

A/N: Dear all, thanks again for your "who will be dominant/submissive" answers. You'll see how I handle this interesting situation :-) This is an extra-long chapter – what I call a marathon chapter. There is not much Snape in the first part, but a lot more in the second. However, please don't scroll down to the second half at once!!!

**To my very special friend Esthi:** Your reviews via SMS and our live-convos (Aroma, hallowed corridors of the Kollegienhaus etc.) are spurring me on to write chapter after chapter – I can't unglue myself from my notebook and computer anymore :-D Thanks a million for all your input, Miss Amitié!

koredik: Harry is rather forgiving towards Snape. But then, he's feeling really attracted to him. In this chapter, you will see whether Snape is indeed such a cold-hearted guy who takes Harry's forgiveness for granted. After all, they both like challenges to a certain extent.

Microfatcat: the doors of the Hogwarts entrance are closed when the students nip round for breakfast, and none of the students bother to go out before eating, especially during the cold season. Now, we don't know (and that includes me…) how much Dumbledore knows, of course :-D

---

The hall was filling with students, and it was time for owl-post. To Harry's apprehension, several owls clutching ominous red envelopes were delivered to Harry. Dumbledore's smile was replaced by a worried expression. Harry tentatively opened one of the Howlers and was greeted by a screaming voice which yelled out that he was a sick pervert and that people like him were a threat to the wizarding world.

Harry was sitting in stunned silence when the next Howler went off, calling him cruel names and insulting his "deviant orientation".

Students and teachers were staring. Harry felt sick to his stomach. Dumbledore quickly seized the remaining envelopes and threw them into the fire crackling behind the staff table. There was a horrible silence in the Hall. Harry got up and left quickly, walking jerkily towards his quarters on the second floor. Tears obscured his view. He swiped his sleeve across his face. With trembling hands, he grabbed some Floo powder to contact Hermione; she was back from Switzerland and had been delighted that he had enjoyed her gifts. He hadn't dared tell her about the cheese fondue or about Snape decapitating her cuckoo clock. In fact, he hadn't told her about Snape and his, Harry's, attraction towards him at all. Hermione had sent him a very strict letter after his quarrel with Snape, but he had managed to pacify her, and after his public apology, she had been completely mollified. Ron, on the other hand, had found the whole thing very amusing. Lupin and Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, had rather agreed with Hermione.

Harry was fortunate: Hermione was at home at the wizarding flat she shared with Ron in London. She nearly knocked over her chair when she saw Harry's head in the fire.

"Harry!" She rushed towards him and dropped onto her knees. "Oh, Harry, I read that awful article in the _Prophet_, I am so sorry. Ron is mad – he's writing a letter to the editor right now and I'll be completing it with him."

"Snape outed me, Hermione," Harry said, trying not to cry. "He did it yesterday – out of jealously, I think. He told me that he thinks everything falls into my lap. We've got such a roller coaster relationship…"

Everything spilt out of him, including the almost-kiss not so long ago. He excluded the cheese fondue, the Basle Cookies and the clock, of course, out of consideration for Hermione's feelings.

"I wish I could hug you, Harry…Look…Can I Floo into your rooms at around six o'clock this evening? I should have time off by then."

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Six o'clock will be fine, and the Floo Network is no longer monitored."

"Not since that Umbridge toad left," Hermione said with a glint in her eye.

"Give Ron a hug and a big thank you from me," Harry said. "I'm so glad you guys accept me the way I am."

"Harry, you silly, we're your _friends_. I'll see you later."

Harry pulled his head out of the fire. He felt better. Just then, Snape's owl Alexander settled down next to him, hooting softly. Harry decided not to say anything in case he put it out of temper again. The bird was probably as choleric as its master. He opened the note Alexander was carrying.

_Please be at Enchantments at eight o'clock sharp tonight. You will find me in the main hall._

_Severus Snape_

Harry frowned, then shrugged. At least Snape hadn't chosen six o'clock, when he would see Hermione.

He wrote back an answer in the affirmative and fastened it onto Alexander's leg.

Teaching was difficult that day. The students looked oddly at him. Harry thought he saw disgust written in a few faces. Was there a world without homophobia? he reflected sadly. There were other faces, however, which expressed compassion and understanding; and Harry felt sure that it was thanks to these last that he saw several torn scraps of the article in various wastepaper baskets during the day. He crossed Albus Dumbledore for lunch. The older man put his hand gently on Harry's shoulder, looking into his face.

"Don't worry, my boy. You'll fight your way through this mess as well. You have many friends who accept you the way you are."

He squeezed Harry's shoulder, smiled and left.

Snape didn't turn up in Harry's range of view at all.

Harry had put out a tea set and biscuits and was pacing up and down in front of his fire when Hermione arrived punctually at six. She wasn't alone. Ron had accompanied her as well. Harry, touched, went up to them. They both pulled him into a hug.

"Hey, mate. Life's a bit rocky for you, isn't it?" Ron said, ruffling Harry's hair in a brotherly way.

"Yeah. It sucks."

"Harry! Now I can hug you," Hermione said, cuddling him.

"Great rooms, Harry! Wow! What a cool desk! Sheesh! And this…"

Harry could finally grin while Ron inspected his quarters. Hermione nodded with approval.

"Wonderful," she commented, "but a bit untidy."

She smiled at Harry and led him by the hand to a chair. Ron joined them.

"So, Harry. I sent a massive Howler to the Prophet. Nor am I the only one. Lupin says he's sending one too."

"Lupin? But…he's usually so quiet and reasonable…"

"How can one be reasonable and quiet around you, Harry?" Hermione laughed.

"And the rest of my family is also mad about that article. Ginny has enclosed a Bat-Bogey hex with her Howler. Fred and George's contribution is going to be explosive. See, mate, we guys don't give a damn about your orientation. Though I wouldn't be too pleased if you hooked up with one of those spiders in the Forbidden Forest…Oh, and 'Mione told me this morning that you've got the hots for _Snape_, of all people."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry flushed.

"Well…uh…Yeah. I know how incredible it sounds. He tortured all of us, and he's still short-tempered, but he's changed in other ways…I just can't explain it."

"Yes, aren't you two kind of dating?" Ron inquired.

"Ron!" Hermione pinched her boyfriend's arm.

"Ouch!"

"Yes…No…I'm not quite sure. He's so…cryptic."

"There's nothing cryptic about it at all. Look, if he nearly snogged you-"

"Hermione, I think you really gave him _all_ the details."

Hermione chuckled.

"-and I shudder at the mere notion of you and that greasy idiot in something even remotely resembling a lip lock-"

"RON!" Hermione bellowed, digging her elbow into Ron's ribs.

"His hair is really nice now," Harry chimed in, and reddened again as his friends looked at him.

The trio discussed homosexuality in the wizarding world. Hermione had brought a stack of books along with her on the subject. Harry was sure that not even the expansive library in En_chant_ments had half of them. Ron told him about several people who were gay, including some of the classmates they had known.

"It's just that people are too stupid to realise in how many varieties things like love and sexuality come," Hermione said, eating a biscuit and sharing it with Ron.

"That greasy – sorry, Snape has invited you to the bar tonight. Seduce him in the bathroom," Ron suggested. Hermione glared at him.

"It doesn't always have to be about _that_, Ron," she said crossly.

"Hey, I was kidding. Just flirt a bit with him. Wear something tight."

"Something…tight?"

"You know, Harry, it wouldn't hurt," Hermione agreed. Harry stared her, open-mouthed.

"You're a bit shy sometimes. You need to get out of yourself a bit."

"Hey, ask Snape for piano lessons," Ron joked.

"Snape is rather _protective_ about his piano," Harry said delicately.

The three discussed impossible flirting strategies, resulting in a lot of laughter.

"But I don't get it, Harry. Snape sort of nearly kisses you, outs you, and then hits on you again. That's just too odd. He may be playing with you. After what you told us about that Lucifer fellow…"

"I shouldn't have spied on him. It's so hard to trust him and yet…"

"It seems quite logical what's going on with Snape," Hermione said brightly. "Considering the stormy past he has had with Harry and with Harry's father, Sirius and Lupin…It's not surprising that he's swaying, isn't it? He regards Harry as the son of his enemy. And on the other hand he seems attracted to you, Harry."

"For such a logical man he acts really illogically."

"Logic is hard to find in any world," Hermione pointed out with a smile.

"Make sure you include an interview when an article on you and Snape shacking up appears in a few months' time," Ron added.

"Centuries is more likely," Harry said with a small smile.

"If Ron and I made it, then so will you and Snape," Hermione said sweetly, earning a scowl from Ron. "Oh, and don't be too lenient with him, Harry. I'm certain Snape enjoys scathing verbal battles as a courting strategy. So whet your tongue."

"Not only for verbal stuff," Ron murmured. Hermione cuffed him lightly on the head.

Harry thanked his friends warmly and was sorry to see them go. He promised to contact them if he felt unhappy again and was told to reserve Christmas for festive activities at The Burrow. When they departed, Harry immediately leafed through the books Hermione had given them and was soon deeply engrossed in a tome until the cuckoo clock in the kitchen reminded him that it was seven-fifteen and that he had to dress quickly if he didn't want to be late.

Ron had recommended wearing something tight. Harry rummaged around his wardrobe and extracted a pair of black trousers and a crisp white shirt. He put on the clothes and scanned himself critically in his full-length cupboard mirror. He left the first two buttons of the shirt undone.

"Dear, are you in a seductive mood today?" the mirror asked him. Harry was too embarrassed to answer. He fled to the bathroom with a tube of magical gel and, with the help of the loquacious mirror over there, made the best of his unruly hair. He decided to keep the earring since Snape obviously appreciated it. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

"Stop thinking of that man," he muttered to himself.

He flung on another cloak – a thick one for especially cold weather – slipped into a pair of fashionable black boots and left his quarters, warding them securely.

He was at the bar at five to eight. He stowed his stuff away in his locker. He caught sight of Madleina, who was wearing bright red robes and strappy black heels.

"Ah! Harry! A table has been reserved for you in the main hall – you're at the very front for this evening's show. Drinks are free tonight."

"Show?" Harry asked as he followed the witch.

"You'll see."

She led him into the hall. It was very full, and there was one empty table in front.

"There you go. List of beverages is on the table. Enjoy yourself," Madleina beamed and clicked her way to the stage, which was dark.

Intrigued, Harry looked around to see if he knew anyone. To his displeasure, he caught sight of Lucifer, who was wearing a see-through blue shirt and leather trousers.

Harry glanced at the menu of beverages.

"Still water," he said aloud. A glass of water appeared in front of him. He sipped at it and checked his watch. It was eight. Right on cue, the stage became suffused with warm yellow light. There was a piano on the stage; and sitting at the piano in robes of velvety black was-

"Tonight, Mr Severus Snape will be playing the first movement of the 'Moonlight Sonata' by Ludwig van Beethoven," Madleina announced.

It was the piece of music which had moved him so much, the one Snape had played after the tuning of the piano. Harry's heart started to race.

The piano and Snape's seat were positioned in such a way that he was looking directly at the crowd. His head was slightly inclined as he looked down at the keys. Multi-coloured music bars with the first few notes of the melody floated around the hall and faded away. The hall was utterly silent. Then Snape started to play. Harry listened with amazement. It seemed to him that whatever feelings Snape hid behind his enigmatic façade were expressed in the sombre melancholic tunes his fingers coaxed forth from the piano. Sorrow, regret and pain filled the hall with unspeakable beauty. The music was quiet; yet it conveyed as much passion, if not more, than a loud brazen tune would have done. Snape's head remained bowed, his sleek black hair caressing his slim neck and shoulders. Harry sensed emotion and sensuality radiating from him. Towards the end of the music, Snape raised his eyes and looked straight into Harry's. The gaze, although covering a large distance, was strangely intimate, making Harry think of that almost-kiss during the sunrise, of those lips caressing his ever so lightly, as lightly as Snape's fingers were caressing the piano keys…And then it was over. Silence…followed by deafening applause. Chairs were pushed back as people got to their feet to give Snape a standing ovation. Harry, standing right in front, whistled loudly and cheered. People near him did the same. Others were wiping tears from their faces, and Harry became aware of his moist cheeks. He wiped them with his palm and continued clapping. Snape rose from the stool and bowed gracefully. The crowd broke out into hoots and began to throw things onto the stage. Harry half wished he had something to fling onto the stage as well.

"NOW, WASN'T THAT BRILLIANT?" Madleina yelled. Screams of agreement erupted in the hall.

"PEOPLE WHO WANT AN AUTOGRAPH FROM MR SNAPE – PLEASE QUEUE UP NOW! HELP YOURSELVES TO PARCHMENTS ON THE WAY!"

Without knowing how he did it, Harry abandoned his table, making a beeline for the stage, standing behind a line of enthusiastic people. He picked up a piece of parchment from a row of tables next to him.  
At last, it was his turn.

He approached Snape, who was armed with a handsome black quill.

"Ah. Potter."

"Severus, that was amazing," he said softly. "Thanks for your note."

Snape looked at him expressionlessly for a few moments before smiling. It was a smile untouched by his usual bitterness.

"Infuriating as you are, Potter, I am beginning to value your comments."

Harry grinned sunnily and stuck out his parchment.

"May I please have your autograph?"

"My, my! Inverted roles," Snape murmured, signing Harry's parchment.

"Thanks, Severus."

"Don't leave as yet, Potter. Please wait for me until I have finished with this tiring business. I must say that is rather difficult being a star. It gives one cramps."

Their eyes locked for a moment before Harry returned to his table with a smile.

After the autographs had been distributed, Snape went up to Harry.

Harry blushed and tried not to tremble from head to foot now that he had Snape all to himself.

Snape's eyes glided languidly over him, taking in his trousers, shirt and gelled hair.

"You play very beautifully. When did you start with the piano?" Harry asked him.

"After leaving Hogwarts. I took a few lessons, and after that I taught myself by practicing regularly. Unfortunately, when my life took a turn for the worse, I didn't have much time left for the piano. When…Voldemort…disappeared, I was very pleased to devote more time to music."

"You said his name," Harry smiled, impressed. Snape shrugged.

"Let's have a drink in the bar. It's my turn," Harry said.

They were drinking their usual Butterbeer when Harry was approached by a handsome wizard with black hair reaching till his chin. He was not unlike Snape in height and figure.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked.

"Do you mind?" Harry said to Snape.

"Go ahead with your teenage antics," Snape said coolly. The wizard smiled and took Harry's hand, guiding him onto the dance floor.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you? Saw your picture that day in the _Prophet_. I'm Kim, by the way."

A slow song with a good beat was playing. Kim danced close to Harry, staring into his face. Harry, embarrassed, looked down at their feet.

"No, no, you've got to look up…Like this."

He pulled Harry closer.

"Yeah, that's the way to go," Kim said, smiling.

"Thanks for showing me. I'm a beginner," Harry admitted.

Snape watched them with narrowed eyes, his hand holding his glass rather tightly.

"No problem. Is that your boyfriend over there? The one who played the piano?"

"Snape? Erm…He's actually my fellow-teacher…We both teach at Hogwarts…And, uh…"

"Sorry, don't want to be nosy; but is something going on between you two? I wouldn't want to, you know…intervene," Kim said. Harry was happy that he was so honest.

"I don't really know. I quite like him, actually," he admitted in a low voice.

"Quite like him? To judge from your face, it's more than that. You know…he seems to be the reclusive type to me."

Kim winked and released Harry as the song ended.

Harry returned, grinning. Snape glared at him.

"Enjoyed your dance, Potter?" he nearly spat.

"Well, it was quite nice," Harry said.

"I see."

The comfortable atmosphere between them was suddenly broken. Then it clicked in Harry's mind. But surely…Could it be? Was Snape annoyed because he had danced with another wizard? Surely not…?

Snape glanced pointedly at his watch.

"I suppose-"

"Would you like to dance?" Harry asked.

Snape actually blinked.

"Did you just ask me to _dance_, Potter?"

"Uh, I know that my dancing skills are not exactly good, especially after the Yule Ball-"

Snape got up and came round to Harry.

"I'll teach you. You have to be taught everything, you greenhorn. Come on."

---


	21. Chapter 21: Flying Sparks

**CHAPTER 21**

A/N: The Weird Sisters belong to JKR – but the song title is invented by me :-)

peppermintstick and yaoi-fied: Kim is not a reporter. More Howlers – that would be too much :-)

peppermintstick: Snape was present when Harry received the Howlers during breakfast. Inviting Harry to the bar and playing in public was his way of apologising for the mess he caused.

koredik: Harry is not stupid. He realises (but hardly dares to hope) that Snape is sexually interested in him. He dances with someone else to make Snape a bit jealous. Harry is astonished at the attention, but also uncertain, since he hopes for more than sexual interest from Snape. He knows that Snape is snarky – and he will try to turn that snarkiness to his advantage.

---

Harry and Snape walked onto the dance floor.

A song with a fast beat began to play.

"Right, Potter. You showed potential when you sang here. Just move along with the music. Like this."

Snape swayed his hips from side to side rhythmically, one hand on Harry's waist, eyes drilling into Harry's. Harry boldly copied his movements.

"Not bad, Potter. You're a quick learner in some things," Snape said. Harry was pleased by this rare compliment.

As the music went on, Harry felt the heat increase. He could hardly believe that Snape, of all people, the social recluse, was dancing so enticingly. With him, Harry Potter.

Harry was disappointed when the fast disco beat ended; but Snape did not move from the dance floor and retained his gentle grip on Harry's waist. A slow song started. It was called "Hex Me, Sexy" and was sung by none other than the Weird Sisters. The song was definitely sexy and seductive.

"Potter, that was my foot."

"Sorry, Severus."

"How Miss Patil survived the Yule Ball with you will always remain a mystery to me."

"I think it will remain a mystery to me too," Harry smiled. "Why did you decide to invite me out here?"

"Well, Potter. I daresay I did contribute indirectly to those Howlers you received this morning."

"And…you decided to use a creative way of…uh…apologising?"

"I suppose you could it put it that way."

Snape approached his lips to Harry's ear, making him shiver.

"I sent a tough Howler to the _Prophet_, Potter."

Harry stared at him, startled.

"You mean…_You_ also sent a Howler?"

"Also?"

Harry told him about the other people who had sent Howlers for his sake.

Snape actually laughed.

"I would not be surprised if most of the Hogwarts teachers and a large part of the student body had sent Howlers."

"Severus…Thank you."

Can I feel sparks flying between us? The way he is looking at me…Those eyes! Harry thought.

The lyrics of the song were decidedly naughty, and Snape was obviously enjoying the mixed discomfort and excitement they were causing the young introverted wizard. His thin mouth was curved in a sensual smile.

"Potter, when you are dancing to a song like this, you've got to make sure to avoid moving like an automaton. Look at the other couples."

Harry followed Snape's advice and saw that most of them were dancing very close and in a natural manner. Summoning his Gryffindor courage, he placed one hand on Snape's hip and the other on his back.

"That's better, Potter."

Harry looked up into his eyes and shivered with exhilaration at the gleam he discovered in their dark depths. He daringly pulled Snape closer to him.

"Ah, you're learning fast…" Snape murmured.

"You're a good teacher. When it comes to dancing," Harry said cheekily.

"Really?"

"Oh yes."

Snape ground his hips against Harry's as the Weird Sisters repeated "Hex me, hex me, Sexy, Sexy" in breathy voices. A fiery glow spread to Harry's face.

"I am glad to hear this positive assessment, Potter."

Snape's hands travelled up Harry's back lazily, his lips brushing Harry's neck nonchalantly, making Harry arch himself involuntarily against him.

"Of course, romantic couples dance even closer than we are doing, so I don't suppose I can really show you more _intimate_ dancing techniques."

"I, uh, think that this is quite close enough," Harry said, breathing in the scent of his dancing partner as he shifted his position and moved one hand to Snape's shoulder. The dusky hair stroked his fingers like liquid velvet. Snape's own hand darted down to Harry's right thigh, squeezing lightly.

Oh Merlin, this is exquisite, this is too good, Harry sighed inwardly.

Snape's smooth palm stroked his cheek, making Harry renew the eye contact. Snape's mouth was close. Within kissing distance. Harry was on fire; still he hesitated. For too long, because the song ended, and Snape drew back from him.

"So, Potter. I am relieved you did not make a fool of yourself on the dance floor," Snape said in his usual biting tones, gliding back to their table.

"I enjoyed it," Harry said candidly.

Snape raised a sceptical eyebrow and sipped at his Butterbeer.

Harry studied him for a little, finding it difficult to calm down his aroused body.

"You said that you had to teach me everything. So…Maybe you could teach me how to play the piano a little?"

Snape lowerd his glass, his black eyes scanning Harry's face thoroughly.

"Give me your hand, Potter."

Harry obeyed.

Snape ran his index finger over his skin, travelling over the back of Harry's hand and fingers.

"If your mind is as finely built as this hand – which I actually doubt, Potter – then you might stand a chance to play quite passably."

"In other words…?"

The slightest hint of a smile flitted over Snape's stern face.

"I will teach you, Potter. I actually thought I had done with your education for good after you graduated."

"Bad mistake," Harry laughed.

Snape stroked the bridge of his haughty nose with a thoughtful finger before tracing the contours of his upper lip. Harry hastily sipped some more Butterbeer.

"Every Saturday night from nine till ten o'clock. I can't believe I am wasting more of my precious time on someone like you, Potter. And if you damage my piano…"

"…then you will guillotine me. Got the picture," Harry grinned. "Thanks for offering to waste your time on me, Severus."

Snape directed a decidedly glacial glance at him.

When they had finished their drinks, they got up and Harry said:

"Let's leave through the back door. There are too many people."

Snape nodded. There were indeed less people using the back exit, and Lucifer happened to be among them. His smile disappeared when he caught sight of Harry and Snape. At the exit, he intentionally scraped past Harry roughly, making him bump into Snape, who, unpleasantly surprised by this turn of events, fell over with Harry on top of him.

"POTTER!"

"I'm sorry, Severus, Lucifer banged into me and I couldn't keep my balance."

He got off Snape quickly and held out his hands. Snape seized them, and Harry pulled him to his feet. They gazed at each other in the dim glow of the streetlight, the tall wizard and the smaller one.

"Close your eyes, Potter," Snape whispered to him gently.

"Why?"

"Just close them. I will show you what you need to feel when learning to dance to the music…and learning to play it."

"And I have to close my eyes for that?"

Snape sighed.

"You will cheat. I know you."

With a quick spell, Snape conjured a black scarf out of nowhere and tied it around Harry's eyes.

"Take my hand."

Harry complied, feeling the long fingers wrap around his firmly.

"Follow my movements."

It was a special trip home for Harry. Without sight, everything seemed completely unfamiliar to him; and even with Snape's hand guiding him, he tripped a few times, but was supported by Snape, who did not say a word. They stopped at last, and Snape raised Harry's hand, running it over something rough.

"What is this, Potter?" Snape's voice breathed into his ear.

Harry moved his hand around, caressing the material.

"A…tree? The bark of a tree?"

"Yes, exactly. But that was easy." Snape drew out the first word seductively.

They continued their route.

"Now, Potter-"

"When will you ever call me Harry?"

"When a Bowtruckle jumps over the moon. Tell me what this is."

Something cold was put into his hands.

"Hm. It feels…stiff. Cold. And sort of…bristly."

The object smelt funny. He wrinkled his nose and touched something thin and long and suddenly realised what he was holding.

"Severus! Is this a dead animal?"

"Wonderful, Potter. A dead rat, to be exact." A faint hint of amusement was in the low voice.

"A dead…! Severus!"

Harry flung the object from him. Snape murmured a cleaning spell over his hands.

"I WANT TO WASH MY HANDS!" Harry exclaimed angrily.

"The spell is quite thorough, Potter. I wouldn't want to hold your hand otherwise."

They resumed their walk, Harry grumbling underneath his breath.

"We are nearly there, Potter."

"I guess we could gone on for hours and I would still be trying to find something familiar around here."

"We are nearly at the gates."

Where we watched the sunrise, Harry thought with a sharp pang, where you almost kissed me.

He turned towards Snape, placing his hands on his forearms. Snape remained completely still. Harry moved his exploring palms upwards, slowly, carefully; now and then, a strand of silky hair grazed his knuckles. He felt the collar of Snape's thick cloak. His neck. His cheek. His mouth. Snape exhaled, his warm breath making Harry tense with arousal. His long fingers sneaked to the back of Harry's head and undid the blindfold, which fell onto the ground.

"I want to show you something else besides using your other senses, Potter."

"And that is?"

"That to learn music from me, you have to trust me."

"Blindly?"

"Not blindly, Potter. What are your other senses for? Decoration?"

Harry smiled.

"I don't suppose so," he whispered.

They stared into each other's eyes.

"I think I am starting to like learning from you now," Harry informed him.

"My dear boys, there you are."

The two wizards turned around swiftly.

Dumbledore was standing on the stairs, smiling.

"Yes, we just came back from a drink at the karaoke bar," Snape said smoothly.

"I am pleased that you are socialising," Dumbledore observed, "come on in before you both get colds."

Harry and Snape obeyed, hurrying up the stairs into the castle.

"Severus," Dumbledore called.

Snape turned.

"You forgot something."

Dumbledore Summoned the black scarf and handed it to Snape.

"Thank you, Albus. Good night."

As they parted ways, Snape said to Harry:

"Nine o'clock, Potter. And not a minute earlier or later."

"I'll be there, Severus. Nice scarf, by the way." He made sure to give Snape an intense look from his green eyes before retiring.

Neither of them noticed the thrilled expression on Albus Dumbledore's wise face.

---


	22. Chapter 22: Music and Movies

**CHAPTER 22**

A/N: _The Piano_ (1993) belongs to Jane Campion.

mYcAtCh22: Harry will get to know other sides of Snape during his piano lessons. Snape has to be snarky and insensitive – but sensual and sexy at the same time :-D

Dru Black: Yes, Dumbledore is rather omniscient…

Microfatcat: The scarf will make a reappearance…Read on to find out more ;-)

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Nine o'clock on Saturday evening arrived. As usual, Harry chose not to use Floo powder, walking instead to the piano-room on the third floor, wearing sober black robes for a change. Snape, on answering Harry's knock, was similarly attired.

"That was five seconds too early, Potter."

"But you can't deduct points anymore," Harry reminded him blandly.

Snape gave him a level stare and gestured at the piano, where there were two seats, one at the corner of the piano and another in front of it.

"Kindly sit down on that stool," Snape said, pointing at the former. Harry obeyed.

"Properly dressed for a change, I see," Snape commented, elegantly resuming his own seat at the piano.

His slender fingers caressed the keys without pressing them.

"Have you ever touched a piano before, Potter?"

"No – never. The Dursleys didn't care much about music, and even if they had had a piano, they would never have let me near it."

He half expected Snape to say that the Dursleys would have made a wise decision to keep him away from the piano if they had had one.

Instead, Snape raised a fine dark eyebrow.

"Mmmmh, I see. A complete greenhorn at the piano as well. Move your stool and yourself over here, next to me."

Harry did so.

Snape took Harry's right hand with surprising gentleness, placed it on the keys and withdrew his own hand.

"Press any key. But don't bang it down." The second sentence sounded particularly threatening. Harry pressed down the key on which his index finger was lying.

"Louder. Not so timidly."

Harry followed the order. Snape, however, watched his face rather than his hand.

"Now, at your feet, Potter, you have got pedals."

Snape spent the first half hour of the lesson explaining how a piano was constructed and what the different parts were for. After the lecture, he made Harry give him a concise summary of the explanation.

"Well, you definitely pay more attention than you used to in Potions," Snape commented.

He played a scale, filling the room with beautiful music for a few seconds.

"You will need sheet music, of course, to practise. And a piano." His eyes glinted. "Now, this is not the only piano in the castle, but there are only two which are used and tuned on a regular basis. You will practise on another one. I will give you a password which shall enable you to access the other piano. It is just down the corridor."

"It seems to be a very musical corridor," Harry remarked. "And where do you keep the harpsichord?"

"There is an inner room which adjoins this one. That is where it is. You can look at it later. For now, I am teaching you how to play the piano. No interruptions. And do not even dream of scratching either of the pianos. They both belong to me."

Snape rose and deposited a pile of sheet music and a few tomes on top of a small commode.

"I want you to read all this, Potter. You are simultaneously my colleague and my student. I therefore hope you do a satisfactory job."

He locked eyes with Harry, who was pleasantly surprised that Snape had finally acknowledged their status as fellow-teachers.

"Now, you have agreed to learn from me, and I have told you that you need to trust me."

"I trust you," Harry said softly, "in spite of the dead rat."

Snape's dark eyes remained expressionless.

"If you work hard, Potter, then people won't have to cast a Silencing Spell for aural protection when you play the piano."

"I do hope they won't have to do that…But I also hope I'm not going to have to play in front of an audience?" His last sentence trailed away on a questioning note.

"Actually…" Snape said with a somewhat sinister smile, "I would like to test your skills after a few months. I think a few minutes in En_chant_ments will suffice to convince me or to disillusion me along with the audience."

Harry reddened a little.

"Erm…"

"Come now, Potter. You should be used to receiving attention by now."

"I'm not," Harry said wearily. "I feel uncomfortable with all the attention. I'm just me. Harry."

"Stay seated. We are going to play together. I will direct your hands."

Snape moved behind Harry, bending over him and placing his hands on Harry's.

"Follow my movements."

Together, they played the first chords of "Moonlight Sonata", Snape directing Harry's movements, his long fingers resting on top of Harry's and pressing them down onto the keys at the appropriate moment.

"No, don't resist, Potter. Just go along with my hands," Snape growled impatiently into his ear.

Harry tried to relax completely. It was difficult to accomplish this feat with the sensual Slytherin so close to him.

After a minute, Snape stopped and stroked his upper lip pensively.

"Close your eyes, Potter."

Harry shut his eyes, and felt something soft being tied around his face.

"That scarf? Again?"

"Yes, the scarf again, you recalcitrant brat," Snape breathed into his ear, making Harry break out into gooseflesh.

"Brat?!"

"Let us start again, Potter."

Playing with his eyes closed was completely different. It enabled Snape to have more power over him, more will to direct his hands – but it also made Harry feel the music more deeply. It seemed that with his sense of sight temporarily taken, his fingers and ears were more sensitive. Even Snape's presence distracted him less.

"Ah, very good. I do suggest that you play without a blindfold in the other room, Potter. Remove your hands now."

Snape lowered the lid and untied the scarf from Harry's face. Harry got up from the stool, standing with his back against the edge of the piano.

Snape languidly moved the scarf over Harry's neck.

"Practise every day, Potter. Otherwise-" here Snape looped the scarf around Harry's neck, bringing the young wizard's face close to his, "-otherwise, I will not be…very…pleased."

Harry flushed but didn't look away.

"I will practise," he declared clearly, picking up the books Snape had lent him.

"Good."

Snape folded the scarf, opened the door and closed it behind them, murmuring a protective spell.

"Thank you, Severus."

Snape studied him intensely for a few seconds.

"You have got potential, Potter," he said slowly.

Harry smiled.

"Well, you have interesting teaching methods."

"Read those books and sheet music thoroughly. Don't just skim through them. I demand a lot from everyone whom I teach, regardless of the subject," Snape said sternly.

"I realised that in my first year already."

"Your epiphanic moment didn't seem to have helped much back then," Snape commented. Harry laughed.

"By the way, would you like to watch a Muggle film with me one of these days?"

Snape raised both eyebrows this time.

"A Muggle film?"

"Yeah. I've got the equipment in my room. A cinema evening with popcorn, you know."

"Cinema evening?"

"Yes – that's what friends often do."

"Potter, are you teasing me?"

"Why would I? There's a movie which might interest you. It's called _The Piano_."

Snape remained completely still for a second or two. A strange look had come into his eyes at the word "friends". Friends. Potter considered him, of all people, as a friend. It gave him a very odd feeling. Maybe he had misheard the young man.

"What do you think?"

"Your offer is acceptable," he said at last.

Harry smiled.

"Great. Which time is convenient for you?"

Snape rubbed the bridge of his hooked nose for a moment.

"How long is the movie?"

"About two hours"

"Tomorrow evening. I will have finished grading those imbecile Potions essays by then."

"Perfect. Er…You don't mind that there'll be nudity and bit of sexuality?"

"I have not seen the film but I have read about it, Potter. I don't think my delicate sensibilities will be too affronted."

"Read about it?"

Snape sighed.

"Wizarding newspapers do bring reviews about Muggle films, Potter. We are not that isolated."

"Uhm, yeah, of course."

Snape rolled his eyes.

"The password is _Amadeus_."

"So you like Mozart?"

A tiny smile touched Snape's lips.

"Not bad, Potter. Not bad at all."

He marched away, leaving Harry behind with a satisfied expression on his face.

The next day, Harry made sure to carefully choose some elegant Muggle clothes. He opted for a pair of trendy faded blue jeans and a dark-blue shirt. He rolled up the sleeves and raised his arms to add a few finishing touches to his hair. His cupboard mirror squeaked happily.

"I can see your midriff when you stretch like that, dear!"

Harry immediately lowered his arms.

A few minutes later, the familiar peremptory knock sounded at his door. Harry opened it, revealing Snape in his usual black robes. The dark eyes summed up Harry in a rather appreciative way.

"Please come in. I just have to get the popcorn."

Snape snorted and swept inside without greeting his host. Harry went to the kitchen and came out with an enormous bowl of popcorn and two glasses of water on a tray.

"Popcorn has got lots of salt," he explained.

"Potter, I know what popcorn is," came the dry answer. "And I don't think it is good for one's diet."

Harry levitated the tray to the sofa, which was facing a large television set.

"I borrowed it from the Muggle Studies teacher," Harry explained, "together with the DVD-player, remote controls and the adapter."

Snape sat down on the sofa without comment. Harry joined him, drawing up his legs, remote control at the ready.

He had chosen the right movie. Snape showed no sign of boredom. On the contrary: his dark eyes narrowed often, and his finger stroked his lip or chin in the characteristic gesture which denoted thoughtfulness or scepticism. He did not eat much popcorn. Harry was actually glad about this. He stuffed himself happily with the salty snack.

"Stop munching, Potter," Snape growled at one point.

Harry resumed his snacking later. When he changed his position, his leg touched Snape's briefly. Snape didn't seem to notice. Harry maintained the subtle contact, refusing to move his leg.

He was sorry when the movie was over. He was starting to quite like Snape's presence in his quarters, even though he was tremendously domineering.

As they watched the credits roll, Snape leant back with a sigh and looked at Harry.

"Definitely above the standard Muggle trash they show nowadays, Potter. I liked it."

Harry smiled.

"I'm glad you did. I kind of knew you would."

Snape leant forwards.

"Potter," he breathed.

"Yes?"

"Your lap is full of popcorn, as are my robes."

"Oh!" Harry jumped up and dusted himself. Snape did the same. Harry magicked the crumbs away from the carpet, turned and found himself facing Snape.

"Want to dance?" Harry asked boldly, "I've got the soundtrack."

Snape's mouth curved into a seductive smile.

"Potter, are you attempting something along the lines of 'Hex me, Sexy?'"

Harry looked him in the eye.

"It all depends on your interpretation, Severus."

"Go ahead, Potter. Don't stamp on my foot again."

As soon as Harry had inserted the disc, Snape approached him and put one hand on Harry's waist and the other on his shoulder. Harry flushed a little at the close contact. They were not in a bar with other people. They were alone in the intimate atmosphere of Harry's rooms and flirting heavily with each other. Harry could not suppress a small gasp when Snape's hand moved down his waist and squeezed part of his bottom and hip after a little while.

"You know, Potter, maybe I should teach you how to play piano by…" his fingers played with the collar of Harry's shirt, "…making you remove a portion of your clothing whenever the music pieces become more advanced."

"No, _you_ would have to remove your clothes since you are the teacher. That's how it worked in the film. And they were negotiating about the piano keys, not about the difficulty of the pieces."

"Such impertinence," Snape breathed. Harry shuddered with pleasure as the mischievous fingertips massaged the curved hollow space between his neck and shoulder. They reached the sofa. Harry gently made Snape sit down on it while he straddled his lap, exhilarated when he noticed that it was not only he who was aroused. Inquisitive fingers grazed his midriff as his shirt rode up a little. They stared into each other's eyes. Snape's pale face was slightly flushed.

It's now or never, Harry thought, feeling a little giddy as his heart raced, I have to kiss him.

Snape grabbed Harry's hips firmly, pressing them against his.

"So recalcitrant," he murmured, kneading Harry's knees and upper thighs, increasing the erotic friction.

Harry clutched at Snape, his arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, his cheek pressed against the slim neck as he breathed hard into the long black hair and finely shaped ear.

"Severus…" he murmured, his voice thick with need.

Snape suddenly got up, making Harry stumble; he avoided falling when Snape seized his wrists, pulling him against his body.

"Potter…the next song on the disc started long ago, and it did not occur to you to finish the dance. You definitely have to work on your timing."

Snape released Harry, stepped back and settled his robes. The slight flush in his cheeks went away. His eyes seemed hard, clouded with pain and sorrow. The expression vanished, leaving them without feeling.

"Good night, Potter. I want to hear solid piano-playing from you next Saturday."

Before Harry could answer, Snape had left his quarters.

Harry buried his hot face in his hands for a moment.

Why is he doing this to me? Playing with me, toying with me? Making me aroused and then leaving? Damn him and his sexual games! he screamed in his mind.

What had happened on the sofa had been incredibly intimate. Like having sex, he supposed. He didn't know, but he could imagine it. Having sex with Snape. He choked and began to cough at the thought.

"Crap," he whispered, clenching his fists. "Next time, I'm going to make him stay."

---


	23. Chapter 23: Another Piano Lesson

**CHAPTER 23**

A/N: The song 'Legends Of The Fall' belongs to James Horner, who composed the soundtrack for the film of the same name.

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Harry realised with a twinge of amusement that his second piano lesson would be on Halloween. It would not to submit Snape to nightmarish music. Eager to practise on the piano, Harry went to the second piano room on Monday night after correcting essays and a Snape-less Duelling lessons with his students. On reaching his destination, he was greeted by a portrait of a man wearing an enormous wig. He looked sceptically at Harry.

"This is new," he remarked, scooping out a monocle from some unseen region underneath the frame and scanning Harry, "usually, it is only the Potions Master or the piano tuner who come in here; and on rare occasions, the Headmaster."

"I'm the Potions Master's new piano student," Harry answered respectfully.

The man's eyebrows shot up in amazement.

"I suppose there is a first time for everything," he commented. "Password?"

"_Amadeus_," Harry said.

The man inclined his head gracefully (the wig wobbled perilously at this point) and the door opened.

Harry went inside and closed the door behind him.

The piano in this room was not as elaborate as the other one; it did not have so many carvings, but it was clear at first sight that it was a beautiful instrument and of excellent quality. It was well cared for, dust-free and polished.

"Trust Severus to have a high-calibre instrument in here," he murmured appreciatively.

He looked at it for a few moments and touched it reverently. He carefully opened the lid, spread a few music sheets and sat down. He felt odd doing this all alone with no one to tell him whether he was playing correctly or not. There was no magic involved, either; the notes and piano were not enchanted, although his surroundings were.

He straightened his glasses and started playing. The piano had an amazing sound which filled the large room entirely. Harry stopped to listen until the last tones had faded away before resuming. He practised conscientiously, reminding himself whenever he grew impatient that he was determined to live up to both his and Snape's standards. He found it difficult to keep his hands and fingers in a certain position instead of just pressing any key with a random finger. He also had to coordinate between using his hands for the keys and his feet for the pedals. Fortunately, good coordination was crucial in Quidditch, Duelling and many other things, and it proved useful. Harry was shocked when he realised that he had been in the room for nearly two hours: it was eleven o'clock and he was very tired after his packed day. When he left the room, he could have sworn that he had just seen the hem of a black robe or cape vanishing around the corner.

Harry turned to the portrait.

"Was…anyone…outside while I was playing inside?" he asked.

The man gave him a sly smile.

"It's quite possible," he responded evasively and began to snooze, thus signalling his wish to discontinue the conversation.

Harry's stomach squirmed at the thought of Snape interrogating the portrait or even using a spell to listen to his playing through the solid door.

"What a Slytherin," he whispered with a laugh.

Halloween arrived – this time without any major incident to terrify the students and staff. Harry fully enjoyed stuffing himself with Halloween goodies and playing games with his fellow-teachers. Snape looked on with an expression of utter boredom, which, however, slowly disappeared as nine o'clock approached – the time for Harry's piano lesson. The two teachers excused themselves and went together to the third floor. Harry was nervous although he had practised every day, as Snape had told him he should. He smoothed a few wrinkles out of his robes.

"Er – which room?" Harry asked Snape.

"You'll see," Snape responded curtly. Peeves passed them on the way, emitting a resounding burp. Snape ignored him while Harry looked disgusted.

"Peeves has his own ideas of music, Potter," Snape remarked wryly, noticing Harry's expression. Harry guffawed.

Snape shot him an exasperated glare as he led him to the quarters which housed the piano and harpsichord.

"So. Let's see how much you have learnt. Or not learnt. Thrill me with your talents," Snape said, his voice dripping with liberal sarcasm. He sat down in the corner while Harry occupied the seat at the piano and began to spread out the music sheets. Snape, however, used a Summoning charm to make them fly towards him.

"By heart, Potter."

"You didn't say that last time!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

Snape sneered.

"If you haven't practised properly, then you are bound to feel a little…uneasy without them," he said, fiddling idly with a strand of long black hair. "Before you torture my ears, I want to know how well or badly acquainted you are with the keys."

Snape proceeded to test him on the note names of the keys. Harry did not make a single mistake. When Snape was satisfied, he usually didn't say anything. Harry knew he had passed the test when Snape announced:

"I want to hear the first score."

_I want to hear solid piano-playing from you next Saturday._

Harry braced himself as he recalled Snape's stern words.

"I am waiting, Potter."

Harry dared not say that this remark was not very conducive for a beginner. Instead, he searched his mind for what he had learnt during the past days and made the memories flow down to his fingers and into the keys. It was a very quick exercise; however, he steeled himself for a reprimand from Snape.

"Sixth exercise, Potter," the exigent wizard continued their lesson.

Harry obeyed and looked round at Snape when he had completed the exercise.

"Now, Potter, the Music Master-"

"Who?"

"Don't interrupt me!" Snape snapped.

"Sorry."

"The man on the portrait of the room in which you practised – he insists on being referred to as the Music Master. He has informed me that you were valiantly trying to play a coherent piece of music last night."

Harry shifted on his chair. Besides having Snape hovering around in front of the room to make sure that he did not wreck the piano, he had assumed that the portrait would provide Snape with feedback. Correctly, apparently.

"Uhm, well, it's called 'Legends Of The Fall', it belongs to a soundtrack of the movie of the same name. I can only play a few chords, nothing much."

"I would like to hear it just the same."

Harry nodded somewhat reluctantly. He drew on as much self-confidence as he could and started. He managed to play the basic melody, without additions and adornments. It was most likely deplorably simple and banal for Snape. Snape was silent for a few moments after Harry had finished. Then he moved his chair next to Harry.

"Please play it again," he said.

His face softened, becoming less stern and arrogant as Harry repeated the melody. And then, incredibly, he smiled.

"You have a feel for the music – a natural feel, like you have for Quidditch, Potter. You touch the instrument with respect. You feel what you play. Tell me, did you have the sheet music when you played this?"

"No, I just kind of tried finding the correct combination of keys and corresponding hand positions. I played it by ear at first."

"It is important for a piano player to show initiative, Potter. That is what you did."

Harry flushed a little with pleasure.

"Wow…Uh...Thanks. That's extravagant praise."

Snape raised his eyebrows.

"We're not yet over, Potter. Let's see if you can play without sight."

"Not the scarf again!"

"I am afraid so, Potter. You tend to stare too much at the keys. You'll want to look up from time to time to interact with the audience."

"Did you wash the scarf?" Harry asked jokingly.

"Naturally, Potter," Snape barked, standing up and tying the scarf around Harry's head.

This time, Harry needed several attempts to discover the right keys. Snape was behind him, his presence making Harry's heart speed up by several beats. Now and then, he would stoop over Harry, his long heavy hair brushing Harry's ear or neck, and direct Harry's hands. Finally, Harry was able to play the song without Snape's intervention.

Snape freed him from the blindfold.

"Happy Halloween, Severus!" Harry exclaimed triumphantly, sweeping the keys with a flourish; the piano rumbled frighteningly.

"POTTER!" Snape snarled, "THAT PIANO-"

"Come on, let's boogie doooown," Harry sang out.

Snape shook his head, grabbed Harry's shoulder and forced him down onto the seat.

"Childish boy! You are a teenager after all! Impossible!" Snape hissed crossly, resuming his own seat next to Harry with a furious glint in his eyes.

"So, and now, we are going to play together, recalcitrant brat."

Harry was completely unfazed by Snape's reprimands and simply smiled at him, giving him a deep look from his green eyes. A faint flush tinged Snape's gaunt cheeks. He turned his face away, looking through the sheets of music until he found an adequate piece of music. Harry was enjoying the lesson a lot. His week had been tiring but rewarding – and _The Daily Prophet_ had been remarkably quiet about him, preferring to address the issue of updating and improving the Floo network – a reason why Harry had had to take the Knight Bus, since Hogwarts had been having its network redone at the start of the term. And he was falling in love. With Severus Snape. The man was the embodiment of a million contradictions and was becoming increasingly attractive and appealing to Harry as the days flew by. On the other hand, he was not immune to a certain stab of pain and sadness. He knew that Snape was sexually interested in him – the incident after their movie-watching, their dancing together and walking home blindfolded with only Snape's hand to guide him – it all made sense. But love? He glanced at the uncompromising profile of the wizard next to him, at the keen black eyes, the condescending nose and thin mouth; his hope threatened to evaporate along with his joy. What chance did he have? he wondered melancholically. When the lesson was over, Harry was so distracted with the beauty of the music and the mystery called Severus Snape that he walked into the wall.

"Potter? Are you feeling fine?" Snape's voice caressed his ears from behind.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Was just sort of lost in my thoughts," Harry muttered, straightening his spectacles.

"Well, are you coming?" Snape asked impatiently, holding the door open.

Harry felt thoroughly ashamed as he appreciated another decidedly naughty meaning behind Snape's question.

"Yeah, I am," he replied, quickly stepping out of the room.

Snape shut the door and warded it.

"By the way, will you be coming to The Burrow for Christmas?" he asked casually.

Snape gave him a derisive stare.

"No, I am not."

"Weren't you invited?"

"I was, but I have other duties which are more pressing."

Harry felt strongly tempted to ask abut the nature of the duties. Naturally, he wisely chose to forgo the question.

"Maybe you could come to Grimmauld Place after Christmas for a few days. For New Year, you know."

Snape passed his index finger across his lip.

"Are you inviting me to spend time with you in that crumbling house, Potter?"

"It has been done up completely. You should see it."

"Will anyone else be there?"

"Dobby will be there, he has insisted on leaving Hogwarts in order to take care of the house and myself during Christmas. I couldn't dissuade him, and when I told him that I could look after myself, he began to cry."

Snape studied Harry warily before saying:

"Very well, I will indulge your ego and spend a few days at your decrepit shack."

Harry bit back a grin at Snape's rudeness.

"Great."

"Good night, Potter. I am pleased with your progress."

"Thank you, Severus. Do you want some sunflower seeds?"

"Some more birdfeed?" He moved away from Harry with a snort and walked down the corridor with an imperial air.

"Ha! I made you stay. At least – when the Christmas break arrives, that is," Harry muttered to himself with a grin, stuffing the packet of seeds back into his pocket.

---


	24. Chapter 24: Le Temps De L'Amour

**CHAPTER 24**

A/N: This chapter is the beginning of a sensual chain of events. The next chapters will be even more, uhm, explosive in nature. Enjoy.

René Magritte is, or rather was, a Belgian artist who specialised in painting surrealist themes. His paintings are really wonderful.

The chapter title translates as "The time of love" and is borrowed from a beautiful and melancholic song by Françoise Hardy.

---

November and most of December slipped past serenely. The weather became very cold; Hogwarts and its surroundings soon acquired a blanket of snow. Snowball fights became a cherished activity – something Snape scrupulously avoided, although he did fall a victim to snowballs enchanted by Harry; they followed him everywhere when he went outside, bouncing off his person. Snape, enraged, condemned an amused Harry to learning six pages of sheet music by heart for his piano lessons.

Harry was proving to live up to Snape's expectations. He indeed had a natural feel for piano music, and Snape did not have much to criticise. The lessons became tinged with a seductive hint of eroticism whenever Snape knotted the black silk scarf around Harry's eyes. Harry's body and mind would react strongly to Snape's presence behind him or next to him, to the breath of his voice playing upon his neck, to the long hair brushing the back of his head or his cheek and ear. More than once he could have sworn that Snape's lips was just inches from touching the place which joined his neck and shoulder; it would tingle, and the tiny downy hairs, as if attracted by a magnet, would raise themselves in innocent expectancy.

At night, sexual dreams often visited him, resulting in him sitting up in bed, sweaty and thoroughly aroused. This had been a rare occurrence during Voldemort's tyranny. Now, with the monster vanquished, he was discovering his sexuality and enjoying the path of exploration. Hermione's books were extraordinarily interesting, and he devoured them one after the other. His knowledge about the facts of life had not been very extensive; he had gleaned the basics from his friends and nocturnal talks with Ron. Hermione, always matter-of-fact, had even taken it upon herself in her seventh year to explain things in such a technical manner as to leave him nearly disgusted.

"And that is supposed to be…pleasurable?" he had asked.

Hermione had bossily informed him that the books in the restricted section of the library were not only on magic. He had not bothered to follow up on her hint. People, most of all he, had had far more pressing matters to think about, what with Voldemort and his Death Eaters spreading terror.

He hoped that Bellatrix Lestrange and her small group of escapees would be caught soon. So far, no one had seen or heard anything about them. No news was good news.

Now, he was eighteen years old, allowing rampant dreams to roam his imagination freely –and not only during the night. One look from Snape would trigger daydreams full of vague hopes and wistful longings. He wished Snape's fingers would caress him like they caressed the piano keys, that they would draw forth his individual melody praising the fusion of lust and love, that those slender fingertips would awake the language of his body.

Harry poured all these desires and reflections into his work and especially into the piano. The Music Master was happy to see him in front of his portrait nearly every night. Harry became attached to the instrument, dusting and cleaning it himself – without magic.

Snape seemed to be pleased at this development; he never offered to help, naturally, but his approval was expressed in the way he ran his hand over the piano and glanced at Harry or when he uttered the occasional remark:

"I am glad to see that my piano has not sustained any damage from your prodding, Potter."

He was fully aware of the fact that Harry did far more than simply prod the piano.

When Harry informed him that the dusty piano at Grimmauld Place was going to be tuned by Isabella right after Christmas, Snape actually smiled a little.

"A little practise during the holidays certainly won't hurt, Potter."

"You can play on it, too."

"I certainly shall, provided that witch does not make a mess."

Typical Snape, always reluctant to give compliments, ever generous with negativisms, Harry mused.

Harry forgot all about negativity when he left Hogwarts for the Weasley residence. Hermione, Lupin, Tonks and other members of the Order were present, as well as all the Weasley children – with the exception of Percy, who seemed permanently estranged from his family. It was full house indeed; the Burrow was packed to the brim. The ghoul in the attic was imprisoned in an old trunk in order to accommodate Lupin, Bill and Charlie; the Christmas tree was encrusted with Christmas decorations and, on Christmas Day, surrounded by a horde of gifts. Harry was heavily loaded when he left for Grimmauld Place after Christmas. Isabella came to tune the piano and was happy to receive a warm greeting from Harry after Snape's coldness towards her.

The house was gleaming after Dobby's preparations. The house elf greeted him with a loud squeak. Harry had not forgotten to buy him a gift – clothes, as usual – for Dobby and send it to Hogwarts before Dobby moved temporarily to Grimmauld Place. Dobby, in return, had knitted a pair of mittens for Harry – one green, the other red. Harry immediately wore them, and Dobby's eyes glistened with overjoyed tears.

Both elf and wizard were there to greet Severus Snape when he arrived at Harry's home on the night of the 30th December, a trunk gliding behind him in the snow. His tall slim figure was wrapped in a thick fur-lined cloak. His black hair was mussed by the wind.

Harry's heart skipped a beat at the sight.

"Good to see you, Severus! Please come inside," he said.

Snape didn't reply to his greeting, preferring to nod curtly instead.

Dobby came forward to take care of Snape's trunk; but the Potions Master gently told the elf to stay indoors. Harry was pleasantly surprised and enforced Snape's suggestion. Dobby scuttled inside, followed by Snape.

"How was your Christmas?" Harry wanted to know.

"As always," was the unenlightening answer. A slender gloved hand deposited a large package in Harry's arms.

"Christmas gift," Snape said abruptly.

Harry, who not expected anything at all from Snape, was flabbergasted.

"For me?" he asked.

"For whom else, Potter?" Snape snapped, stamping the snow from his boots and undraping his cloak. He cast a cleaning charm on his boots and stepped into the hall.

Harry had opened his gift in the meantime. He gasped.

"Wow! I mean…Like…Wow!"

Glossy sheet music, brand-new books on composers of piano music and a piano-cleaning-toolkit…Harry spontaneously embraced Snape briefly.

"Thank you so much," he said, reddening.

"Thank you for wrinkling my robes," Snape said waspishly.

"Uhm, I've got something for you as well."

It was Snape's turn to unwrap his present, which contained fifty must-have Muggle movies – milestones of Muggle cinema. He stared at the contents for a good minute before saying:

"Thank you…Harry."

Harry's mouth went dry for a second. Snape had said his first name. At last.

"Did a Bowtruckle just jump over the moon?" he asked jokingly.

Snape approached and took Harry's hand in his.

"It landed again on the other side of the moon…Potter."

Harry shook his head, laughing softly.

"Since you expressed a wish to see more Muggle movies a few weeks ago, I thought I'd get these for you. You've got equipment at home?"

"I have no home, Potter, except at Hogwarts. The equipment over there will be adequate enough."

Harry pressed Snape's fingers gently.

"Sorry. I didn't know," he apologised.

"You couldn't know." Snape released Harry's hand.

The teenager proceeded to show Snape around the house, ending with the piano in its separate room.

Snape approached the instrument and touched it as if in greeting. Harry smiled as Snape slowly sat down, opened the lid and began to play. The music echoed through the whole house, from the cellar to the attic. Even Dobby poked his head inside to listen. Harry motioned him to come right into the room. Together, they listened to Snape play. When he had finished, they both began to clap; Dobby vanished to reappear with an enormous supper-tray while Harry and Snape retired to the hall to have supper and discuss their gifts.

"Don't use those books to kill flies, Potter."

"In winter, Severus?" Harry asked sceptically.

Snape pulled a wry face.

"You have a point."

After supper, Snape went to install himself in his room and to unpack. Harry sat down at the piano and let his fingers run over the keys. Hopes and joy buoyed him up, and his emotions were reflected in the music. He didn't notice Snape slip into the room, unnoticed, and lean against the wall, his eyes half closed as Harry played "Legends of the Fall".

"Very nice, Potter," he remarked when Harry had finished.

Harry turned around, startled.

"Thank you, I'm glad you liked it. You're a really good teacher, you know."

"Maybe I should resume my teaching…now that I'm here," Snape said softly, pulling up a chair next to Harry. They played until late at night. Harry, in spite of his love for the music, was yawning and Snape, too, was tired.

The next day, Harry came down to discover that Snape had already had breakfast prepared by an eager Dobby and was playing with something which was familiar to him.

"You brought that scarf along with you?" he exclaimed as he sat down to a plate of fried eggs, bacon and toast.

"I anticipate using it, Potter," Snape remarked. "You will see after breakfast."

"For playing the piano?"

"No. For something else. Patience is a virtue."

Harry therefore remained patient until he had finished breakfast and brushed his teeth. He made sure that his black jumper was straight and his jeans neat.

"Very nice, dear," his mirror said approvingly as he left the bathroom and went to the hall, intrigued.

Something soft was draped over his eyes and Snape's voice spoke into his ear.

"Yesterday night, you mentioned to me that you know this house like the inside of your pocket. I would like to test your knowledge. Try to discover my whereabouts by touch, Potter. Don't cheat – I have put a charm on that scarf."

"So you will be somewhere in the house?"

"Yes."

"You won't hide in the bathtub or closet or something?"

A low laugh caressed his ear.

"Certainly not, Potter. I am not inclined to ridicule myself."

Without warning, he seized Harry's shoulders and swivelled him around several times. After a few turns, he was released and his hand taken; he was guided along a few corridors and stairs before Snape left him to his own devices.

Disoriented, Harry stretched out his hands. There was no sound of Snape moving. Harry took a step forwards. His hand touched a door handle. He passed his hand over the door and felt something rustle underneath his palm – a poster of one of René Magritte's paintings which Harry liked very much. Now he knew where he was. He continued, bumping his hip against a commode. It was extremely difficult. He kept on banging into things, stubbing his fingers or tripping. After twenty minutes of fruitless searching, he retreated to the piano room – and instantly sensed Snape's presence. He moved around until his outstretched hand touched something soft. Hair.

"Severus."

"About time, Potter," a silky voice whispered into his ear. The blindfold was removed from his face. Harry smiled at him.

"Your turn now."

"Potter, I'll find you in no time at all even with my eyes covered."

"Really? Try me," Harry said indignantly.

Snape's eyes glinted.

"Fine. If you want to fool yourself into thinking that you will receive an ego boost…"

Harry rose on tiptoe to put the blindfold on the taller wizard. Snape, however, stretched his body and neck, making himself even taller.

Harry glared at him and hopped a little to fulfil his mission, but Snape simply stretched again.

"Severus, you are the recalcitrant one here!"

He conjured a footstool and stood on it. Snape smiled:

"Not bad, Potter."

He allowed Harry to tie the scarf around his face.

"Right. Spin around."

Snape obeyed with a haughty smirk on his lips.

Before Vanishing the footstool, Harry removed his shoes in order to make less noise and breathed to Snape:

"Catch me if you can. I'm off!"

He rushed away, trying to be as quiet as possible.

He stopped where he could still see Snape. He watched the wizard stand still for a moment, then stretch out a slender hand and touch the wall. Next, to his surprise, he began to move in Harry's direction. He fled, a big smile on his face, feeling like a small child enjoying a game of hide-and-seek. It was something he had never been able to do with the Dursleys. Hide, yes – but not with an enjoyable or playful goal in mind. Seek – only if he wanted to be punished. Now he jogged along, rushing up the stairs with the maximum of stealth and silence. He slipped into the attic, wondering how long it would take Snape to find him. Perhaps half an hour?

Five minutes later, he was examining some old Hogwarts papers and books of his when the door to the attic creaked open.

"I know you're in here, Potter," Snape said in a bored tone.

Harry managed not to gasp loudly in shock.

He backed away. Snape didn't move from the entrance.

"No magic, remember, Potter? You can't Disapparate. It is good that you decided not to become an Auror. Anyone would have been able to track you down."

Harry remained silent. Snape uttered a short laugh and walked towards him gracefully.

"Okay, okay, I'm here! How did you manage to pull that off? Have you got Extendable Ears?"

Snape simply began to laugh as he removed the blindfold.

Harry went up to him, arms crossed upon his chest.

"No magic, right, Potter?"

"Am I smelling strongly of something that you found me here within five minutes?"

"Smell?"

Snape's agile hands pulled Harry close and he breathed in the scent of his neck. He shifted his grip to a dancing hold, one hand resting on Harry's waist, the other on his shoulder. Harry felt vaguely dizzy with exhilaration. They danced slowly across the creaking floor to imaginary music, Harry consciously directing Snape towards a box.

For the second time since he had got to know Snape, Harry made Snape sit down so that he could straddle Snape's lap. This time, it was he who caressed Snape's thighs, his slight hands squeezing and fondling skilfully.

"I'm the host, I get to spoil you," he informed Snape gravely, moving his hips forward abruptly, rocking back and forth slowly on Snape's lap. The black eyes flared with passion at his bold moves. His robes couldn't hide his body's eager response.

"I am glad that you take your duties as a host so seriously," Snape whispered, cupping Harry's face, kissing the young wizard's forehead, then moving on to his cheeks, his nose and everywhere else – except for his mouth. He drew back a little, without moving those blazing eyes from Harry's flushed face.

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	25. Chapter 25: Crash! Boom! Bang!

**CHAPTER 25  
**A/N: Thank you all so much for your interest in my fic and for your reviews! This story is far from over, by the way. The journey goes on - along with my writing and your reading :-D**  
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Harry took Snape's face in his hands and slowly pressed a shy but firm kiss upon his lips. It was the very first time he was kissing a man.

Snape stiffened, then returned the kiss with a full-mouthed one – a lingering, languid, luscious kiss. Both closed their eyes in order to savour this exchange of intimacy as much as possible. Harry had learnt from the experience with the blindfold that his other senses increased when his eyes were covered. It was the same now as he and Snape kissed again, this time rather heatedly. Snape got up, making Harry stand up with him; but he did not release him; he drew him into his arms, his warm mouth explored Harry's neck and shoulder. Harry suppressed a sharp exhalation and dug his fingers into Snape's back instead. The tall wizard took his hand and led him out of the attic.

"Severus, where are you taking me?"

"Your bedroom or mine?"

Harry swallowed.

"I…Uh…I've never…you know…done 'it',' he explained timidly.

"I thought as much," Snape said with a glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, I have no intentions of stealing your innocence."

Harry blushed; Snape, seeing the colour in his cheeks, smiled.

"However, it doesn't mean that I don't have some things to teach you, provided you are willing to learn."

Harry's colour deepened.

"My bedroom."

Snape smirked and the two wizards were soon in Harry's room.

Harry, who had managed to regain his composure to a certain extent, remembered that he was the host and took over the role of the leader, pushing Snape gently onto his bed and sitting boldly on his lap again.

"Teach me," he said. Snape, with a swift movement, lay down on the bed with the young wizard and rolled him over, pinning his wrists to the mattress.

"Learn from me," he replied, his voice seductively silky as he kissed Harry deeply. His hand slid down to Harry's hand; the teen's fingers were raking the mattress with increasing arousal.

Snape invaded his grip; their fingers interlocked, twisted and squeezed.

A gagging sound from the empty portrait in the room startled them; they looked at each other, then at the picture.

"Disgusting!" a familiar snide voice said.

"Shut up, Phineas Nigellus!" Harry bellowed, conjuring a black board over the portrait, which immediately fell silent.

Snape snickered appreciatively.

"Excellent," he said. Harry used his distraction to change their positions so that Snape was underneath him. The black eyes blazed with desire.

"What shameless tactics," he murmured, crushing Harry's body to his, tangling his legs with Harry's and nudging his knee between Harry's thighs. The two men rocked together, drowning in delicious sexual friction.

Molten lava burnt timidity to nothingness; the room was filled with scalding heat like fire escaping an erupting volcano when the two figures on the bed reached the height of their pleasure, gasping, kissing and clutching at each other frantically.

Harry collapsed on top of Snape, feeling ecstatically dizzy, his hand tangling with a curtain of soft black hair. It was like having made love with all their clothes still on.

Snape slid on top of him.

"I would not mind a repetition of this activity. A change of position may refresh us, however."

"Do you have to talk like that in bed?" Harry asked him. Snape licked lightly at the sweaty circles around his green eyes.

"Naturally."

"I would prefer your tongue to do something else besides talking," Harry hinted.

Snape complied by engaging Harry's tongue in a furious wrestling match. His hand slid down to the hard evidence of Harry's reawakening arousal, caressing the flesh through the jeans material, but not undoing the button and zip. Harry jerked on the bed.

"Severus…! Oh my-"

A soul kiss silenced him successfully.

Later, they lay together calmly on the bed, Harry's arms wrapped around Snape's neck. The Potions Master rose after a little while. He looked down at Harry with a smile.

"I'll see you for lunch, recalcitrant brat."

"Definitely, you snarky prat."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"How poetic, Harry."

He left the room in a flurry of seductive black robes. Harry propped himself up on his elbow.

"I must be dreaming," he murmured.

"I heard your dream," the annoying voice from behind the boarded-up picture announced nastily.

"What! You eavesdropper!"

He reversed the charm. This time, the wizard was in his portrait.

"You have just dirtied my ancient house with your disgusting…deed!" he spat, struggling for an adequate last word.

"Go back to Hogwarts and mind your fucking business!" Harry shouted, "Or I'll fling something at you!"

Phineas glared at him, outraged.

"Filthy scum in my house!" he roared. "I will indeed go back!"

The portrait was empty within a second.

Harry swore mightily and went to have a shower.

During lunch, Snape and Harry behaved as usual, their conversation peppered liberally with sarcastic verbal duels. Neither of them mentioned what had happened in the morning; and in the afternoon, Harry convinced Snape to help him build a snowman outside – without magic.

"Childish stuff," Snape muttered, slapping some snow onto a large white ball. Dobby joined them with two walnuts, a carrot and several slices of an apple to serve as eyes, a nose and a mouth. A saucepan, too, ended up in the mix, making an ideal hat for the snowman.

"So, have we finished with this childishness?" Snape asked crossly.

"Come on, it was fun!" Harry smiled.

Snape snorted and turned to go into the house. A snowball hit the back of his head.

"POTTER! YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!"

He darted back and flung an abundant amount of snow at Harry, who successfully avoided the missile. Snape, growling, threw another handful of snow at the laughing teen. He missed a second time and was rewarded with snow slamming against his shoulder. He strode towards Harry and flung him down on his back. The two men rolled over in the snow; passion took over; wild kisses and hectic embraces were the consequence.

"You brat," Snape hissed, his wet hair trailing across Harry's face and kiss-bruised lips.

"You prat," Harry quipped, laughing. Snape pulled him to his feet and ushered him into the house, where they kissed some more and finally calmed down enough to play of Wizard Chess, Snape beating Harry without effort; they went out for a walk in the evening after tea, and brought in the New Year with champagne and Dobby, who was delighted to be included in the celebration; Snape was prim and correct in his black robes; Harry exuberant in casual trousers and a green sweater Mrs Weasley had knitted for him, Dobby tearfully delighted in a multi-coloured self-knitted outfit. Neither Snape nor Harry were befuddled by the small and prudent intake of alcohol when they spent the night in Harry's bed, not making love technically, yet shedding their clothes to caress and explore each other's bodies with their hands and lips before falling asleep exhaustedly in a sweaty embrace.

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	26. Chapter 26: Showdown

**CHAPTER 26**

A/N: Thank you for your reviews, you lovely people!

iluvmyterrier: Yes, Bellatrix will show up later.

Fk306 animelover: Thanks for pointing out the error; it has been fixed ;-)

Chibi Tsuki Hikari: °gives you lots of paper hankies to stem future nosebleeds, and cookies for the enthusiastic reviews°

akuma-river: Very good observations and questions; some of them will be dealt with in this chapter.

Delu: Harry, though a Gryffindor, is shy, and since he is an adorable greenhorn in many things, he has to sometimes leave the initiative to the snarky and more experienced Potions Master.

koredik: Love your enthusiasm and naughty mind...Ya-hee!

yaoi-fied: °mega blush°…

death's mistress 13: No, there's not going to be any male pregnancy. There is only so much magic can do. It's women who can get pregnant if the circumstances are favourable, and that's it. Sorry :-)

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When Harry woke up, he discovered that Snape had left his room. Disappointed, he rolled over to the spot where Snape had lain, nuzzling his cheek into the pillow. The sheets were cool on his naked body. He got up reluctantly after breathing in the scent of the man who had shared his bed and showered leisurely, smiling dreamily at the memories of the last day of 1998 and the first night of 1999. Snape had already had breakfast; Harry discovered the table laid for only one person when he skipped down the stairs with sparkling eyes.

Dobby was standing next to his chair, looking very upset.

"Dobby? What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Harry Potter! Master Snape is packing, he says that he has to leave urgently."

Harry stared.

"What? But…Dobby, he said he would stay till the 4th…and we'd go back to Hogwarts together."

"He said he had to change his plans," Dobby wailed.

"Did he say at what time he was going to leave?"

"In another half an hour."

Harry patted the elf's shoulder.

"I'll see what's up, Dobby. If he tries to leave the house when I'm not down here, please notify me immediately."

Dobby nodded and vanished with his trademark crack.

Harry's appetite had gone. He had to force himself to eat. He had just finished brushing his teeth when Dobby rushed inside, eyes wide.

"He's leaving, Master Harry, he's about to go!"

Harry hurtled downstairs and found himself face to face with Snape. The Slytherin was already in his cloak and boots; his trunk was behind him. He went pale and avoided Harry's eyes.

"We can't do this. I can't do this," he said abruptly.

"Severus…Wait…Why not?" Harry touched his arm, looking into the black eyes.

Snape shook off Harry's hand.

"I think we had better discontinue our meetings, including your piano lessons, Potter. I am sure you will find another teacher. Bye."

"Severus, please wait, let us talk-"

"I don't want to talk, Potter."

He strode out of the house, leaving Harry with a stunned and very hurt expression on his face.

The remaining holiday was excruciatingly miserable. Harry thought of contacting Ron and Hermione; but he sensed that this was a matter between him and Snape. He reproached himself for having moved too quickly, for having been too impulsive and rash when he had initiated the kiss with Snape in the attic. He arrived at Hogwarts in a dismal state of mind, sending his trunk ahead via Hogwarts Magical Courier Service before he used the finalised Floo network a few hours later to reach his rooms at Hogwarts. Hedwig flew from Grimmauld Place to Hogwarts. Harry found her perched patiently on top of his trunk when he stepped out of the fireplace, dusting ash from his robes. He looked at the familiar walls, collapsed onto the nearest sofa and began to cry, pounding his fist against a cushion. Hedwig, who knew her master very well, left her spot and sidled up against the young man. He reached out and stroked her feathers.

"Oh, Hedwig, I messed it all up. Now he won't have anything to do with me. And I'm in love with him, damn it, I love him!"

The Music Master, on noticing Harry's red eyes and corner of his nose, suggested that he use the piano for expressing his emotions, which Harry accordingly did. It made him feel better, but only for a short while.

As the week proceeded, Snape didn't even look at Harry, who fell into a deep depression, crying himself to sleep or listening to his cassettes on which he described the development of his relationship with Snape; he had undergone regular recording sessions during which he mused about Snape and their blossoming friendship, their piano lessons and the man's eccentricities. Now, whenever he tried to approach Snape, he would be rebuffed by Snape turning his back on him or treating him like air.

Harry started to eat less – which did not escape Dumbledore's ever-watchful eye.

"Have some more mashed potatoes, Harry," Dumbledore pressed the despondent wizard.

"No, thank you, I am not hungry."

Finally, on Friday evening, Harry managed to corner Snape after supper, grabbing his arm and steering him to an empty classroom.

"Look. I want to talk. I want to know why you left head over heels," Harry said.

Snape studied him icily, and when he opened his mouth, it was to say one of the cruellest things he had ever told Harry before.

"You were not bad in bed, Potter. Your physique is quite acceptable and your naiveté absurdly touching. What happened isn't worth remembering. You still have your innocence. What more do you want? You mean nothing, and never meant anything, to me."

Harry stared.

"You liar," he choked out.

Snape sneered at him.

Harry saw red. He darted forwards and slapped Snape across the face twice. Once with his right hand. Once with his left.

"YOU FUCKING LIAR!"

His shoulders shook as he wept for a moment; then he left the classroom, smashing the door behind him while Snape leant on a desk, clutching at his cheek.

"Harry," he said brokenly. The walls didn't respond.

On Snape's birthday, Saturday, 9th January, Harry woke up at five in the morning with a headache. He did not try going back to sleep; too much had happened. Instead, he showered, dressed and called Hedwig down from her perch. She was already awake and blinked at him with her huge eyes.

Harry placed a large package before her.

"Bring these to Severus, please," he said softly, referring to the contents, "they contain what I have wanted to say to him for ages."

Hedwig hooted, nibbled fondly at his fingers and flew away with the package. She came back soon without her burden and dozed on her perch. Harry waited till seven until going down for breakfast. Snape walked into the hall, caught sight of him and walked out again.

Snape's mood was cataclysmic. He reduced several students, including people from his own House, to tears, smashed inkbottles against his walls and made the Music Master desert his portrait when he showered him with curses on being asked to pronounce the password. The Music Master was discovered sobbing on the Fat Lady's shoulder, his wig completely crooked and his monocle hanging listlessly out of his waistcoat. It was turning out to be the worst birthday Snape could have conceived of. At lunchtime, he shouldered his way past Harry, who struggled to repress his anger and tears. His effort did not escape Dumbledore:

"Harry, please see me in my office after lunch."

In Dumbledore's office, Harry was offered a large variety of sweets, which he politely refused. He had hardly been able to eat anything during lunch; the thought of swallowing anything made his stomach churn with protest.

"Harry, you seem very unhappy. Is something wrong?"

"I…" Harry avoided Dumbledore's clear blue eyes. As if to give him courage, Fawkes left his perch and sat down on Harry's lap, looking up at him serenely. Harry answered Dumbledore's penetrating gaze and question.

"I'm in love with Severus," he said bluntly.

Dumbledore pressed his fingertips together.

"I see," he matter-of-factly. "Phineas informed me that Severus was your guest during Christmas."

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black added in shrill tones:

"I would never have thought that two half-bloods would sully the honour of the ancient house of Black! And the impertinent boy had the audacity to put a board over my portrait to hide his shameful activities with that-"

Dumbledore raised his hand.

"Enough, Phineas! I don't need to hear your narrow-minded opinion on what Harry and Severus were doing. Harry, I take it that Severus has been trying to keep you at a distance after his stay?"

Harry nodded, biting at his lip.

"Yes, and he said such hurtful things to me," he admitted, a slight tremor in his voice.

"I don't know how much Severus has told you about his childhood and youth, Harry."

"I only know what I saw in Severus's mind by accident, during my Occlumency lessons. And he knows what he saw in my mind during the same occasion. But we have never spoken about it although I'd feel that we were really close to touching on the subject."

"It is for Severus to tell you about his past, so I won't elaborate. It suffices to say that Severus is very sensitive and a deeply hurt man from enduring trauma after trauma. Harry, I am asking you not to hurt him or play with his feelings."

Harry's eyes flashed.

"I would never play with his feelings!"

"So you are sincere when you say that you love him."

Harry's cheeks became crimson.

"I love him, Albus. It is not an adolescent hormonal infatuation. I don't know how it happened, but I know what I feel for him…And…and I can feel something similar from him, though I don't think he'll admit it in a million years."

"And you are ready to pursue a closer relationship with Severus?"

"I am."

"You have more things in common than you both think," Dumbledore said with a small smile.

"But are you aware that a relationship with Severus is going to be a formidable challenge? Much as I love Severus, I must admit that he has a very complex personality. Apart from the fact that you two have quite a history together, you must take into account how people will react to you."

"What happens between Severus and myself does not concern them. No one can prevent me from loving him against all odds. The Howlers can pour in."

Albus's smile grew bright.

"Ah, true words for a Gryffindor."

"I wonder why Severus is so averse to love, to emotion."

"That is something he will tell you if you are determined enough to face your challenge," Dumbledore replied with a smile.

Harry stroked Fawkes pensively before asking:

"Albus…Is homophobia as widespread as in the Muggle world?"

Dumbledore gazed at him wisely from behind his spectacles.

"It is widespread among people who think that they are superior to everyone else and maintain ridiculous notions of blood purity. In the end, Muggles and the wizarding people are only humans, Harry."

"And if Voldemort had known about Severus being gay…" Harry trailed away.

"…then he would never have trusted him as his right-hand man."

"So he had to keep it locked up all the time," Harry murmured, "he has suffered so much. And it is his birthday today."

Fawkes rubbed his head against Harry's hand.

Dumbledore nodded.

"You can ease his pain, Harry. Go now, my dear boy. It is time you spoke to him."

"Thank you, Albus," Harry said softly.

Fawkes let out a trill as he returned to his speech, and the sound gave Harry a warm secure feeling.

"Harry?"

Harry turned. Dumbledore has risen from behind his table and moved in front of it. He placed his hand Harry's shoulder.

"I am proud of you – proud that you can see the good in people when they can't see it themselves. Your mother was like that. You have inherited more than your eyes from her. Good luck, my boy."

Harry smiled.

He had made up his mind to speak to Snape at night after dinner, even if he had to blast a hole into Snape's door. He was just getting ready to leave his quarters when there was a knock at the door. Surprised, he opened it to reveal Snape. His face was very pale. He walked into the room without waiting for Harry to invite him inside.

"I received your tapes this morning, Potter. I listened to them in the afternoon and evening."

"I hope you were not bored to death by my monologues."

Snape began to pace up and down. Harry watched him anxiously. The black eyes fell upon the giant S of dominoes on the floor.

"We have to forget about what happened," Snape said abruptly, bending and nudging the first domino. The S came alive with a soft rattling sound; it crumbled and created a new pattern at the same time; the other side of the dominoes was striped with silver and green.

"Put this away in a drawer, Potter," Snape said in the same dead voice.

"Severus, this is nothing one can just shove into a drawer and forget. It is far more than just something one can throw away."

Snape stared at him.

"What is it then?"

"Love," Harry said, flushing. "I love you."

"Look at me, Harry James Potter. Is this what you want? Is this what you really want?" His voice was hoarse, nearly broken.

"Look at me and tell me whether you are willing to waste your time on someone like me."

"I love you, Severus. Is that so difficult to understand? Damn it! What do I see, you ask? I'll tell you. I see the man who has become my friend after the most incredible turbulences. I see someone who possesses amazing skills and talents, yet is so insecure that he builds up a wall and locks everyone out. You helped me defeat Voldemort. You sacrificed so much for others and me. I see the man I love, however stupid it sounds to you. How can I waste my time on you when you have taught me to appreciate every minute with you?"

Harry paused, watching feeling stir in the black eyes.

"And my history with your parents and godfather, Harry? Can you forgive me?"

"I can. I have long ago."

"Harry, I am not the right person for you. Someone of your age would be best for you, a young wizard or Muggle with a more approachable personality. Choose someone who is worthy of you."

Every word and breath seemed to cause him unbearable pain.

"I know what is best for me, I am no longer a kid. Look into my eyes, Severus. Look at me and tell me that you don't feel anything for me, that all those times you nearly kissed me and finally kissed and touched me meant nothing, along with the days and evenings we spent together becoming friends…becoming more than friends. Tell me that you have forgotten about the time we spent together at Grimmauld Place. Your gaze and touch said so much."

Snape looked into the determined green eyes, and it was so silent that they could hear the other inhaling and exhaling.

Snape bowed his head.

"And how will your friends react, Harry? What will they say? What if they despise you?"

"If they can't accept the fact that I love you, then it will be their problem. Ron and Hermione know about my feelings towards you. They are fully behind me."

"You would stand by me, Severus Snape, if everyone turned their backs on you?"

"I would."

"You realise that I am old enough to be your father?"

"I do."

"You do?"

"You seem to think I would mind."

"Don't you?"

"Use Legilimens or Veritaserum on me to double-check. Any more excuses and arguments? I will crush them all until you accept the fact that I love you the way you are," Harry declared quietly.

"You accept this as well?" He rolled back his sleeve and stretched out his branded arm. Harry took it and cradled the marked spot against his cheek. Snape's lips parted with surprise.

"I do. It confirms the strength of will you have and so many others don't."

Snape said in a low passionate voice:

"You have me where you want me, Harry James Potter. I love you. I didn't think you could possibly love someone like me. I thought that you were infatuated…you're young, you're discovering yourself…"

"And you made both of us go through all this pain just because you thought I only wanted sex or something?" Harry said, shocked.

"Yes."

"Severus, can't you feel the love between us?"

"I didn't want to feel it. Until now. I recognise you as my equal, Harry.."

Snape pulled Harry into a firm embrace and pressed his mouth against Harry's. Past and present collided together; worlds met and joined; pain was washed away in an oscillating wave as the two wizards stayed locked in a deep kiss.

"I love you," Snape repeated, kissing Harry all over his face. Harry wiped Snape's tears away with his palm.

"Severus?"

"Harry?"

"I'm sorry for slapping you."

"Well…I hurt you."

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Happy birthday."

Snape smiled and brushed his forehead against Harry's.

"It's the best birthday I've ever had, Harry."

They left Harry's rooms with their arms around each other's waists, hardly looking where they were going. A suit of armour fell over with a resounding crash, but neither of them bothered to settle it again as they continued kissing eagerly.

A chuckle startled them.

Dumbledore was smiling at them delightedly.

"Please don't allow yourselves to be interrupted," he said happily as he looked from one flushed face to the other. "May I offer you my most cordial congratulations, my dear boys?"

He embraced both of them and swept away without waiting for an answer, humming in a particularly satisfied manner and snapping his fingers merrily.

Harry laughed and put his arms around Snape's neck.

"What a wizard," Snape grumbled; then he looked down into Harry's smiling face.

"You are the only one besides Albus who can laugh with complete genuineness in my presence."

"I couldn't smile during the past days," Harry confessed softly, "I was hurting so much."

"It suffices to say that Alexander deemed it wise to leave my quarters during the past few days. I believe he is getting on very well with your owl."

Harry started laughing again.

"Something of ours must have rubbed of on them. Or the other way around."

"Kiss me, you recalcitrant brat."

Harry complied with enthusiasm.

Later, Dumbledore prudently visited Madame Pomfrey for a stomach-settling potion after overeating heavily on sherbet lemons.

---

A/N 2: This story is NOT yet finished. There is lots more to come! Watch how Snape and Harry fight for their love in the face of people's mostly negative reactions, and how especially Snape learns to calm his anger concerning his past.


	27. Chapter 27: Skin Deep Love

**CHAPTER 27**

A/N: An ouroboros is a snake or dragon biting its own tail, thus forming a circle. It symbolises, among other things, eternity. I got the idea from the X-Files episode "Never Again" (season 4), where Scully has an ouroboros tattooed on her lower back, so credit goes to that episode :-)

---

It took Harry two hours' skilful arguing and more than arguing to convince Snape to hold hands and kiss him in public.

"I don't believe in reflected glory," Snape said snootily.

"But I do," Harry said, giving Snape a deep look.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere."

"Come on, Severus. Why should we hide our love?"

The word "hide" acted as an incentive; Snape drew himself up proudly.

"I don't hide."

"You do. You're always sticking around your dungeons in the most timid manner-"

"Are you trying to provoke me? Just because we're together doesn't mean that-"

"Severus, please don't be so…recalcitrant."

"If you play the piano naked for me, then I will kiss you in public."

Harry blinked.

"Huh?"

"I was joking, you silly teen."

"I think it's a good idea. Are you shy? You saw me naked during Christmas."

"It was rather dark in your room," Snape pointed out cuttingly.

"Well, I'm sure you won't mind getting a better look this time," Harry said, trying to sound blasé but blushing all over his face.

Snape shot him a scornful look.

"Spare me the torture of voicing your depraved fantasies," he ordered.

"Depraved? What about the piano idea?" Harry reminded him.

"I have got some essays to grade."

"I love you, too, Severus."

"Brat. Where are you going?"

"To play the piano naked."

It was on this occasion that the Music Master decided to abandon his portrait and go for a long walk when it became clear to him that the occupants of the room he guarded had become rather carried away by activities which were not piano-related. His decision was triggered by a sudden bellow from the room:

"HARRY POTTER! Are you trying to place your naked behind on my expensive dragon-leather stool?"

The roguish chuckle which followed this outburst made him hasten his step.

The students stared as Professors Potter and Snape walked into the Great Hall holding hands; and when they exchanged a deep look followed by a kiss initiated by the former, the chaos was complete. Excited whispers broke out; hundreds of glances turned to the couple sitting at the staff table. Hagrid was grinning from ear to ear. Flitwick's eyes were very wide. Professor McGonagall could not stop polishing her glasses; and when the couple happened to cross Trelawney, Harry said cheekily:

"I bet you didn't see that coming!"

"Disaster, disaster," the Divination teacher wailed. "What an inauspicious pairing…I sense the most horrible consequences…"

Snape silenced her with his notorious stare.

All in all, Dumbledore seemed to be the only person who was not in the least surprised. He was beaming continually. His delight received a dampener, however, when the Howlers started pouring in en masse. _The Daily Prophet_ sported a snide and tasteless article on the two of them, suggesting solutions which involved pecuniary aspects or a powerful Love Potion gone terribly awry. The comments in the Howlers were cruel and shamefully homophobic. Snape maintained a cold expressionless stance, but Harry was rather upset. On the other hand, there was plenty of support from his friends. Ron was somewhat appalled that Harry had managed to get together with "that grumpy git" after all, but he took it in his stride and seemed rather amused in the end. After all, he had urged Harry to wear tight clothes, among other things. Lupin sent Harry and Snape a very kind note, and Mrs Weasley informed Harry that both he and Snape were considered family; Harry's happiness was the most important thing to her, besides good health, and, after getting over the initial shock, approved of his choice of partner. Hagrid laughed uproariously at the news.

"Bring yer boyfriend down to my cabin one of these days, Harry. Jus' not sure whether Fang will be pleased…"

Tonks sent them free tickets for all the upcoming concerts of the year in En_chant_ments and wondered cheekily in her note how Harry had not managed to end up as an ingredient for one of Snape's potions.

On a cold February night, after feeding the fire with a large stack of smoking Howlers, Harry realised that Snape's patience with the rude mail was wearing thin. They were in Harry's rooms, and Snape was sitting on the sofa, arms crossed upon his chest. At nine o'clock, Hermione's cuckoo clock leapt into activity. Snape, too, leapt up and strode into the kitchen. A few seconds later, there was a loud crash. Frowning, Harry went into kitchen and stared. The clock was on the floor in a splintered heap. Snape was glowering at it.

"Severus! Did you just destroy my clock?"

"I don't know why you keep such rubbish around," Snape snapped.

"Look, this is _my_ clock, and Hermione gave it to me, as you know. And you just go and destroy it? _Reparo_!"

The clock flew back onto the wall, good as new.

Harry placed his hands on Snape's shoulders.

"I know the hate mail is a nuisance, but it was what we were expecting, weren't we? And we do have friends who are supporting us…"

Snape looked tired.

"I know that," he said irritably, shaking off Harry's hands and leaning against the kitchen counter, staring daggers at the clock.

Harry had noticed that although Snape and he were now in an established relationship, Snape seemed to be reluctant to become physical or intimate with him. It surprised him, especially after Snape's seductive overtures towards him and their time together at Grimmauld Place.

"Are you angry with me, Severus?" he asked softly.

"No, no," the Potions Master answered testily.

"I'm sorry about all the media attention, I really hate it," Harry said.

Snape didn't say anything.

"Severus, what is wrong?" Harry chewed at his lip for a moment and continued softly, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer: "Are you having second thoughts about our relationship?"

"I received upsetting news, Harry. Albus has informed me that Bellatrix and two followers were sighted in London in Knockturn Alley. Since our liaison has been highly publicized, I think it is safe to assume that you are in danger."

Harry had gone a bit pale.

"And why wasn't I told this? Why am I never told anything except when it's nearly too late? For heaven's sake, I am an adult man!"

"Well, I told you now."

"When did you hear of this?"

"A few days after we got together."

"I get to know of this only now?" Harry said angrily.

"Albus expected me to tell you. He didn't want to tell you, you were so happy. And I didn't know how to tell you. You see, Harry, that is what happens when feelings get in the way."

"And you think that being together with me is putting your life in danger?"

Snape rounded on him.

"No, you fool! Being together with me is putting you in danger! Bellatrix will want more revenge on me than on you! I was in…Voldemort's…inner circle at the same time as I was here at Hogwarts working as a spy. And the best way to hurt me is…to hurt you."

Harry took Snape's hands in his and looked into his eyes.

"Were you thinking of separation, of breaking up with me in order to protect me?"

Snape didn't meet his eyes.

"Severus. We will go through this together. I have chosen to be with you, and I shall be with you. You say feelings get in the way; I say that they'll keep us together. I love you."

Snape sighed and embraced Harry.

"I can't stand the thought of something happening to you, of you getting hurt, Harry."

"I don't want you to get hurt either."

They stood like that for a few minutes in the kitchen until Harry said:

"Speaking of hurt…Uhm…You remember that I once told you I'd be interested in getting a tattoo?"

Snape gazed into his eyes.

"I recall the incident and your interest in self-mutilation."

Harry gave him an exasperated look.

"I was thinking of getting an ouroboros in silver and green with your initials in the middle," he said, blushing a little.

Snape pulled him closer.

"Then my ouroboros will be red and gold with your initials in the middle," he breathed into his ear.

Harry looked up, delighted.

"Really? I mean…You would also get a tattoo?"

"Of course. Why an ouroboros, Harry?"

The news about Bellatrix and her thirst for revenge were temporarily forgotten as they discussed the tattoos.

Three days later, the two wizards went down to Hogsmeade and entered _Skin Deep._ Mr Slasher was introduced to Snape and expressed his delight at seeing Harry again. He was joined by another wizard.

"I am Mr Slicer," he said with a bow. Snape raised his eyebrows.

"It's only a nickname," Harry explained hastily. The two wizards nodded, beaming.

"Now, Mr Potter and Mr Snape, how can we help you?" Mr Slasher asked courteously.

"We are interested in getting tattoos on our lower backs," Harry said.

"Ah! Bonding tattoos?"

"Tattoos which symbolise a deep connection between two people," Mr Slicer piped up, seeing Harry's questioning glance, "Muggles have them as well, but I don't think they have a proper term for them."

"We are indeed interested in bonding tattoos," Snape said somewhat impatiently, "We have made sketches of what we imagine the tattoos to look like. We also prefer normal ink."

"Yes, some customers prefer normal ink. They say magical ink makes their tattoos too distracting," Mr Slicer sighed while Mr Slasher looked keenly and appreciatively at the sketches.

"So the tattoos become animated?"

"Oh no, the ink simply gives that impression. The pigments change all the time, so the tattoo seems to be constantly in motion."

The four men talked extensively about the tattoos, hygiene, tools, location, pattern, ink and expense; and, at Harry's and Snape's request, the two lovers would be tattooed together in the same room.

Once inside the room, they had to take off their tops. Snape removed his shirt. Harry couldn't stop admiring his lithe athletic figure. Here and there, he could see scars. He had caressed them during that night in Grimmauld's Place, and Snape had told him that they had resulted from his past as a Death Eater. He was wearing a black leather band around his forearm to hide the Dark Mark. Harry undressed as well and sat down opposite Snape.

"We can't give you a potion or apply anything to your skin to ease the pain," Mr Slicer said apologetically, "it may damage the tattoo or slow the healing process."

"That's fine," Harry said cheerfully.

Mr Slasher stepped behind him while Mr Slicer sat down behind Snape. With quick spells and flicks of their wands, they shaved whatever downy hair there was on Harry's and Snape's backs and disinfected the area. With another neat spell, the modified sketches of the tattoos were transferred from paper to skin to serve as stencils along which they would draw the tattoos with the needle.

Wizarding tools and needles were much faster and even more precise than Muggle ones; the pain was therefore proportionally higher. Snape showed no sign of discomfort when the needle grazed his skin; his self-control was too well trained by years of suffering and pain; except that this pain was of a positive kind. Harry, on the other hand, had to suppress a groan because of the stinging; the effort made him frown a little for a moment. Snape raised an eyebrow at his facial expression, and Harry smiled. They didn't move their eyes from each other's faces. There was something infinitely deep in their gaze, and the fact that they were sitting around without their shirts added a subtle sensuality to it. There was something nearly arousing about the experience and the thin line between pleasure and pain for both men.

The tattooing process was over in only half an hour. Back at Hogwarts, Harry was eager to admire his tattoo again after studying it in the shop.

"I need a mirror to see it or a charm to rotate my head by 360 degrees," Harry remarked.

"No, you need me to see it," Snape said.

He pulled Harry closer and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, brushing his lips against Harry's in those almost-kisses which he knew Harry enjoyed immensely. He removed the shirt and stepped around him to look at his lower back. With his long fingers, he carefully peeled off the piece of gauze covering the skin and looked at the tattoo. The area was still a little red, but the tattoo was magnificent; the green and silver ink was brilliantly clear, and his initials in silver seemed protected by the circle of the snake's coiled body.

He breathed a kiss upon it, and Harry arched his body.

"It looks very nice. It was bound to do so from the very start, with my House colours…"

Harry turned around, raising his eyebrows.

"Let me admire my House colours on you," he said, undoing Snape's robes and trying to steal a kiss from him. Snape, however, averted his face a little with a smile as Harry tried to catch his lips with his eager mouth.

Harry rolled his eyes and inspected Snape's tattoo.

"Wow. Lovely. It looks so sexy on you."

Snape laughed.

"Sexy?"

"Yeah."

This time, Snape gave in to Harry's renewed efforts to kiss him.

---


	28. Chapter 28: Valentine's Day

**CHAPTER 28 **

It was Saturday, 13th February – the day before Valentine's Day. Harry hated it because of its commercialism, as did Snape, who voiced his extremely cynical thoughts on the subject at length.

"Do you remember Lockhart's celebration?" Harry reminded him. Naturally, he knew that this was something Snape would never forget, but he was in a playful mood and keen on teasing his sharp-tempered partner.

"It is hard to forget that dreadful occasion," Snape said with a shudder, making Harry laugh.

"You know, maybe I should organise something similar for tomorrow…There's still time, and I actually quite liked the idea."

Snape looked thunderstruck.

"You…didn't!" he exclaimed.

"I was teasing you," Harry said blandly, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders.

Snape glared at him.

"I am laughing my head off. Where are you going?"

"For a ride on my broom."

Snape gave him a suspicious look.

"More likely for an interview or a secret rendezvous down in Hogsmeade," he snorted.

"Who knows, maybe I'll meet Lucifer or Kim and dance with them," Harry said lightly. Snape approached Harry and stared into his eyes, grinding out from between his teeth:

"If you are ever unfaithful to me, Harry, then I will never ever forgive you."

Harry took Snape's face in his hands.

"Why would I ever be unfaithful to you when I have chosen to be with you?" he asked. "Don't you trust me?"

Snape flushed a little.

"I do," he murmured.

"You are my friend – one of my closest friends besides being the man I'm in love with. I trust you. How can I not do so after all we've been through together?"

Snape bowed his head a little to kiss the young wizard's forehead and then his mouth, sending shivers right down to his toes.

Harry smiled. Physically and mentally, things had been heating up between them – and not only in the privacy of their quarters. Thus, Harry had marched into Snape's classroom after the latter's Duelling class two days ago, very dissatisfied.

"Severus! I believe you took thirty points off Gryffindor in one class?"

"You believe correctly." Cunning black eyes glittering.

"I can't believe that I believe correctly!" Green eyes flashing back.

"I knew that you would storm in here-"

"Storm? I came here with perfect composure."

Snape had raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Well, maybe I had better profit from the not entirely unexpected pleasure of your company, love."

"Not entirely unexpected? You mean…you pulled this off to get me in here?"

"Good guess, Harry."

They had exchanged a gentle kiss.

"Not bad. Thirty points back to Gryffindor should suffice, what do you think?"

"If our kisses are to be a matter of negotiating house points, then I disagree."

Another kiss.

"Want to duel with me?" Harry had whispered.

Snape had answered by letting his hand wander underneath Harry's robes and caressing his stomach and chest. They had just been locked in a heated kiss with their hands wandering wildly when Peeves had floated outside the classroom.

"POTTER AND SNAPE ARE GROPING EACH OTHER, YA-HEE!" He had buzzed away delightedly, yelling at the top of his voice.

Harry had drawn out his wand, imprisoned the poltergeist inside a suit of armour with a well-aimed hex and turned back to a smirking Snape.

Now, Snape watched Harry wrap himself up warmly and put on his boots.

"Don't fall off your broom, you airy-headed teen," he said coldly. Harry left with a grin on his face. It was Snape's manner of telling him to take care of himself. He was soon soaring in the air on his broom, enjoying the sense of freedom and the wind rushing in his ears. It was very cold, but he felt impervious to it. He had rarely felt so happy, so loved. Snape, contradictory as he was, could be frosty or one moment and burning with passion the next; harsh and rude, yet sweet and caring; his sarcasm could sting at times and caress at others.

Harry flew around until it was pitch dark outside and the heavy clouds began to spill rain upon him. He got off the broom to walk to the castle; his legs were a bit stiff.

He had been walking for two minutes when he saw a light bobbing towards him steadily. He recognised Severus Snape, a lantern in his left hand, hair and robes streaming in the rain.

"Severus?" he exclaimed, happily surprised.

"I was concerned about your whereabouts," Snape said somewhat abruptly.

"In other words: you were worried and came all the way out here."

"Hm."

"Without an umbrella or a water-repelling cloak or charm to keep you dry."

"Hm."

Harry looked into the black eyes.

"Thank you, Severus."

"Where were you?" Snape asked, sounding irritated. "Send me a Patronus next time, you careless brat!"

Harry put his arms around his neck and kissed him.

"I'm sorry, worrywart."

Snape kissed him back passionately, slipped his hand into Harry's and set off for the castle, lantern aloft.

"You do realise how important your safety is to me, especially with Bellatrix and her demented gang on the run? And you go flying around for two hours while I wait in the castle!" Snape continued upbraiding him, but his tone was gentle and fond, as was the expression in his dark eyes.

A warm feeling was glowing inside Harry's chest. A small ride on his broom had sent Snape, he of the immaculate self-control and iron-plated composure, into leaving the comfort of the castle in order to check on Harry.

He put his arm around Snape's waist and caught the smile which softened the older wizard's stern face at his spontaneous gesture.

"You're so sweet, do you know that?" he said.

Snape sniffed disdainfully.

"Now, that is a very unfaithful description of my personality, Harry."

Harry chuckled in return.

Both of them left muddy footprints on the way back to Snape's rooms, sending Filch in a temper tantrum. Since there was nothing he could do when it came to two professors being the culprits, he had to content himself with swearing and hatching out dreadful plans of revenge with Mrs Norris.

In Snape's room, Harry studied Snape thoroughly with his green eyes.

"You look hot when you're all wet like that," he remarked.

Snape flipped his hair over his shoulder, on purposely showering Harry with water.

"I look hot?"

Harry nodded.

"You should teach Potions like that."

"And you, Harry Potter, are going to remove those muddy robes of yours now."

"Only if you remove them for me."

Snape's eyes glinted, and he reached out for Harry.

The next morning, Snape left the bathroom after his shower to the sound of Harry laughing hysterically and a deep, oddly familiar voice singing. Frowning, he strode into the hall, his green housecoat billowing behind him. He discovered Harry lying on the carpet clutching at his sides and an enormous pink card yelling out sappy lyrics.

"Severus, we, uh, have just received a Valentine card from Albus."

The card, on sensing Snape's presence, started singing again for his benefit. Snape stared at it.

The card finished hollering out its wishes and dissolved in a cloud of glittering pink dust which drifted down and settled into their hair.

"That _man_," Severus sighed. Harry was laughing so hard that there were tears in his eyes. Snape smiled and gave Harry a soft kiss on his temple. He disappeared into the bathroom to change and found it rather difficult to put on his socks as he was shaking all over with silent laughter – an extremely rare phenomenon for him.

During breakfast, Harry and Snape received such a lot of cordial wishes via owl post as to make them forget all about the howlers they had received after the papers had dealt so thoroughly with the topic. Hedwig and Alexander flew up to the wizards together, balancing a very big package between them. There was a note glued to the top. Harry removed and opened it:

_Dear Harry,_

_This is a custom-made Valentine's gift for you and your snarky boyfriend. All you have to do is prod the package deeply with your wand four times. Enjoy._

_Messieurs Weasley and Weasley_

_PS: We strongly recommend that you carry the package outdoors at night before activating it._

Snape rubbed his hooked nose suspiciously.

"Yeah, knowing Fred and George, it's going to be something pretty much combustible," Harry grinned.

"We'll find out tonight, hopefully without losing any limbs," Snape remarked.

Since Valentine's Day happened to fall on a Sunday, Harry and Snape proceeded to enjoy the day as much as they could, going out for a walk, sharing sunflower seeds, exchanging kisses and personal information. Thus, Snape admitted to Harry that he had been completely disillusioned by love.

"I grew up without love. My father despised me and my mother was too afraid to protect me or show any affection for me," Snape said expressionlessly as he sat with Harry underneath a tree. Harry stroked his fingers as he listened quietly. He realised that Snape's trust in him was a very precious gift, not easily given, and something to be treasured.

"Later, when I realised that I preferred men and that I had absolutely no chance of gaining any man's affection, I spat on the mere notion of love. I came to regard it as an obstacle, as a weakness. So when you returned to Hogwarts as a teacher, and I started to feel attracted to you, I was in a big dilemma."

"And now? Are you still in a dilemma?"

Snape smiled.

"No," he said, "not anymore. Not with you here with me."

When darkness fell, Harry reminded Snape of the package Fred and George had sent them.

"Let's take it outside, then," Snape said, lifting it up and striding away, Harry following with a grin. Snape placed the box on the grass in front of the gates and Harry gave the package four strong prods. It immediately began to smoke and crackle in a rather menacing way.

"Stand back!" He grabbed Severus's arm and backed away.

"So much for Gryffindor bravery," Snape murmured.

Harry ignored him, his eyes on the package. A series of deafening explosions erupted and a shower of colourful sparks howled up into the sky, depicting a red lion dancing with a green snake. This vanished with a very convincing growl of a lion and serpent's hiss after a few seconds and was replaced with huge magenta letters spelling:

"HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, HARRY AND SEVERUS!"

Harry burst out laughing and turned to his lover. Snape's lips were parted. He looked utterly overwhelmed. Harry expected him to shower the Weasley twins with curses and rush back to the castle with the aim of sulking in the dungeons. Instead, he took Harry's hand.

"Fine bit of magic," he whispered into his ear, making him shiver.

People rushed to the windows and outside the castle to admire the most explosive Valentine they had ever experienced before. Dumbledore decided that this Valentine's Day was worth stowing away in his Pensieve for future reference and amusement.

The spectacle lasted for a good half-hour, and the smell of gunpowder for even longer. Once the display had finished with three cannon blasts, a glittery scarlet heart of gigantic proportions and the words "GRYFFERIN", "SLYFFINDOR" and "SNARRY", the two wizards strolled around near the lake, laughing and talking softly together, and when they paused during their walk, it was to steal kisses from each other.

Once back in their quarters and ready for bed, Harry proceeded to jinx the bedclothes.

"Will you stop messing around with my bed?" Snape barked.

The young man looked at him innocently.

"May I suggest something, Severus?"

A narrow eyebrow was raised.

"I'm waiting."

"I suggest that _we_ mess around _in_ the bed."

Snape's mouth curved into a smile.

"Detention for your cheek, Harry."

"When?"

"Now. And…" He turned the sheets back to green. Harry, however, changed them so that the sheets were now a striking pattern of green and red stripes.

"Brat," Snape growled.

Harry laughed. Snape approached the bed and flicked his wand. The sheets became completely silver.

"Oh, cool!" Harry said, grinning brightly. Snape shook his head and sat down next to him.

"Give me your hand, Harry."

Harry became serious and obeyed. Snape studied the hand for a few moments, then extracted a small box from his robes. It was a beautiful deep green colour.

"A token of what I feel for you," Snape explained. "As long as you wear this around your neck, I will be with you. Ordered from Tibet – finest jade. It goes with your eyes…apart from the fact that it is the colour of my House. I put charms on it to protect you against curses. It can absorb Unforgivable Curses thrice, but then it will shatter."

He pressed it into Harry's hand, who, amazed, slowly raised the lid. He gasped as he saw the jade disc which lay inside, green as his eyes, beautiful in its round delicate structure. It was attached to a platinum chain.

He wrapped his arms around Snape with a spontaneity and warmth which deeply touched and charmed the Potions Master.

"Thank you, Severus. Thank you so much," he whispered unsteadily, "it is exquisite."

He drew back with tears in his eyes.

"Will you put it on for me, please?" he asked.

Snape fastened the chain around Harry's neck. Harry touched it reverently and raised it to his lips.

"I will never remove this. I, uhm, got you something as well, but it's nothing compared to this." He touched the chain again and, with his wand, summoned a large rectangular package.

"A DVD-player?" Snape said, when he had unpacked it.

"I've seen the covetous looks you've been giving mine, and you complained that the Hogwarts one was an old model. This one is the latest player on the market. Please tell me if you don't like it. I can still exchange it or-"

Snape silenced Harry with a kiss.

"I love it. I've already watched half the DVDs you gave me for Christmas. I'm going to watch the other half on your gift – with your company."

They began to hug and kiss passionately. Snape's fingers touched the healed tattoo on Harry's lower back. At the touch, Harry knew that it was time to take their relationship to a new level.

---


	29. Chapter 29: Sweetness

**CHAPTER 29**

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, which portrays kitschy sweet moments between our cherished Potions Masters and lion-hearted Gryffindor; chapter 30, on the other hand, will have a major climax and showdown. For now, enjoy the sappy calm.

---

"Do you know what I want to do, Harry?" Snape murmured, nibbling at Harry's earlobe. His fingers forsook Harry's tattoo and squeezed his bottom.

"Tell me," Harry said with a hitch in his voice.

"I am going to kiss and spoil every inch of your body. And…" here he whispered into Harry's ear, "I am going to make back-breaking love to you – if you are ready, that is."

Harry blushed deeply.

"I'm more than ready," he breathed eagerly, "but I've never done this before."

Snape smiled.

"I know. I did it once with a fellow-Slytherin when I was seventeen. It wasn't anything special. Rather disappointing, in fact. We were only experimenting. After that, I had a few flirts and kisses with some wizards in a bar. Nothing to rave about. Lucifer was one of them, as you saw when we were having our Butterbeer."

There was a pause, during which Harry played with Snape's hair. He thought it best to keep the knowledge of what he had seen on two occasions underneath his Invisibility Cloak to himself – at least for the moment. The guilt and shame at invading Snape's privacy were too sharp, and he knew only too well that Snape would be furious; and he wanted to develop the moment they were sharing, not destroy it.

"I hope that we can do something to rave about now," he said cleverly.

"Indeed?" Snape asked, his voice smooth as water.

Harry pulled Snape down onto him, engaging him in a passionate combat of tongues and limbs on the bed. Snape complied most enthusiastically with Harry's impatience and proceeded to fulfil what he had suggested, expressing their love in the most intimate manner which was physically possible, taking care, however, to use a protection charm. The aura of boundless magic set free as their emotions left control was nearly palpable around them.

Harry discovered that the area where they had been tattooed was extremely sensitive and reacted wonderfully to kisses, suckling and other seductive caresses. He felt Snape's body quiver underneath him when he applied his lips and tongue to the tattoo; he himself could not suppress a loud moan when it came to Snape to pour his attentions on Harry's tattoo.

Later, the two wizards were lying in bed on their sides, caressing each other's faces, their bodies sweaty after the passion they had shared.

"That was...beautiful. You are beautiful," Harry whispered to him.

"I was searching for someone," Snape said softly. "I didn't even know that I was actually searching for someone. Or that I would find you."

He laughed.

"You, Harry James Potter, whom I used to despise so much. How you can see in me what you see, a quick-tempered wizard who is nearly double your age, still remains a mystery to me."

"But not to me," Harry said quietly. "I am so happy when you are around. I can be myself. I see so much in you which you yourself don't see. Severus, you don't know how special you are."

"You and Albus are the only ones who have told me that I'm special. And you're the first to say I'm beautiful."

"You are beautiful. And it's time that you told yourself that you're special."

He smiled at Snape, who closed his eyes when he felt Harry's hand touch his cheek and mouth.

"Let's have a shower," Harry added. He got out of bed and took Snape's hand. The older wizard followed him, kissing his neck fondly.

After their shower, Harry soon fell asleep, but Snape remained awake, stroking the untidy black hair. He mused on his life. He had never dreamt that the boy he had once loathed with his whole soul would be his love. Now the boy was a mature young man. He had thought that too much had been broken between them. Fortunately, he had been severely mistaken. Harry Potter, of all people, regarded him as his love and friend; a strong bond of respect and affection had been forged between them. There were so many wizards and witches Harry could have chosen from – but he had chosen Severus Snape, brightening up his gloomy evenings, knowing when Snape felt like talking to him, sensing when Snape wanted to be alone. It was a very brave choice. Choosing Snape implied meeting with resistance from various quarters. The occasional Howler still drifted before them at the staff table during breakfast. Harry Potter was more than just brave. He was sweet and kind. There was spontaneity to his actions and words; it charmed Snape beyond description. He loved Harry's laughter, his vivaciousness in spite of all the grief he had gone through, his sparkling green eyes, his innocence verging on naiveté in some domains, his courage and sincerity.

The next evening found them in the Great Hall bickering after a game of Wizarding Chess.

"Didn't Ronald Weasley teach you anything?" Snape asked exasperatedly. He had just beaten Harry for the second time.

Harry scowled.

"You only won because it is _your _chess set."

"Well, how about fetching your own set?"

"I will!" Harry exclaimed, rising to the bait immediately and pushing back his chair. Just then, Dumbledore happened to stroll inside with McGonagall, talking casually with her.

"Ah, Albus. You wouldn't happen to have a wizard's chess set with you?" Snape asked calmly.

"A chess set?"

"Potter insists that I won because we were using my set. He wants to fetch his set now. I propose, however, that we use an…_unbiased_ set."

"Certainly, Severus."

With an elegant flick of his wand, he summoned his chess set and resumed his walk with McGonagall in the grounds of the castle.

The borrowed chess set did nothing to improve matters. They both won each time, Snape first and then Harry.

"I guess they felt sorry for you, that's why they made winning easier for you," Snape grumbled.

"No, they felt sorry for you, that's why they let you win the first time."

"Nonsense."

You're talking nonsense!"

"The hell I am."

"Language, beloved."

"Recalcitrant brat!"

Harry rose at this point and gave Snape a forceful kiss. The chess set was upset as he pushed Snape against the table, kissing him fiercely again.

"Pick us up, lazybones!" one of the pawns yelled at them. The other pawns joined in the protest vehemently.

Snape gasped when eager slight fingers began to pleasure him through his robes.

"Harry Potter! We're…in…the…Great…Hall…!"

"I am fully aware of our surroundings, beloved." He looked into the half-closed black eyes and pressed his mouth against the parted lips, inserting his tongue between them.

He drew back to watch the effect.

"Please don't stop," Snape whispered hoarsely.

"I think we have kept Albus's chess set long enough with us, Severus."

"And if they till him what we were…are…doing?"

Harry glared at the pawns.

"Don't you dare tell him," he said.

The pawns blew rude raspberries at him, and the impatient one hollered:

"You wish!"

Harry's finger grazed Snape's lips.

"My bedroom, beloved," he said mischievously.

The two wizards interrupted their activities to return the chess set and then made a beeline for Harry's rooms, stumbling and actually falling on the floor at one point, Harry on top of Snape. They only made it to the privacy of Harry's bedroom when they heard Peeves singing rudely from far. Snape got up from the ground, gathered Harry into his arms and carried him away in a flurry of kisses.

"I love it when you call me 'love', Severus," Harry told him, his arms wrapped firmly around the tall wizard's neck.

"You are the first person to call me 'beloved'," Snape confessed, "and, if I may add, extremely insane to do so."

Harry's laughter rang through the corridor.

---


	30. Chapter 30: Pain

**CHAPTER 30**

About two weeks after taking their relationship to a new level, Snape discovered Harry waiting patiently in front of his classroom after a particularly tiring Duelling class. "Snotter Club" was now a firmly established name among the students – but they didn't even dare whisper the rude name in front of Professors Potter and Snape, knowing that the two men would stand up for each other. A couple of students giggled as they left the classroom and passed Harry. Snape narrowed his eyes. As soon as the last person was in the corridor, Harry slipped inside with a smile and closed the door behind him. Snape didn't wait for Harry to come up to him; he approached the young man quickly and greeted him with a gentle kiss on the mouth.

"Merlin, those dunderheads nearly drove me up the walls," he muttered. Harry smiled and cuddled him warmly. Snape pressed his lips against Harry's forehead before drawing back.

"Now, I want to hear you play the piano."

"But it's Monday, not Saturday," Harry said innocently.

Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Do you remember that I told you how demanding I am when it comes to teaching?"

"How can I forget?" Harry smiled and obligingly went to the piano-room – this time to Snape's personal one – and sat down on the stool.

Snape, back in teacher mode, listened critically to Harry's playing, interrupting him twice to correct him.

"Excellent. I am pleased with your progress, Harry. You will be able to play at En_chant_ments soon enough."

Harry swallowed.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course."

"Uh…"

"I am sure 'Legends of the Fall' will suit the audience."

Harry's eyes sparkled; he loved the piece and, besides mastering the notes, had added his own little decorations and accentuations to the music – something Snape had approved of immensely.

"So…when am I to play?"

"In two weeks' time," Snape said, "and no rebelliousness from you, love."

Harry chuckled, then became serious.

"I want to show you something," he said, getting up from the stool and taking Snape's hand.

"Another cuckoo clock?"

"Haha," Harry said exasperatedly, leading Snape to his rooms. Once in his quarters, he made him sit down on their favourite sofa near the fire.

"I got something for you," he said, blushing and giving Snape a small deep-red box.

Snape looked into his eyes.

"Harry, what is this?"

"Open it, beloved."

Snape did so and slowly lifted out a jet-black triangular pendent in a delicate frame of platinum which was decorated with filigree runes. A fine chain went with it.

"It is obsidian shaped by dragon-fire," Harry said shyly. "Charlie Weasley obtained it for me in Mexico, and I had it designed to its current shape over here. It has an Unbreakable Charm on it – Albus tested it to make sure – and the same protective spells you put on the jade disc you gave me. I chose it because it goes with your eyes and hair. As for the shape…Triangles are said to be symbols of perfection besides circles. I want both of us to be protected. Do you like it?"

Snape's eyes were sparkling with an unnatural brightness. He gathered Harry into his arms.

"It is beautiful, love."

When they separated, Harry fastened the chain around Snape's neck and extracted his own jade disc and touched it briefly to the obsidian pendant as symbol of their attachment to each other.

Dumbledore was quick to notice their jewellery and deduce that they were gifts the two wizards had bestowed upon one another as tokens of love. In addition, it was Snape who now sat between Dumbledore and Harry. Staff and students soon became used to the highly unusual pairing. The Howlers stopped altogether, as did the stares and whispers. In fact, people began to appreciate the fact that Snape was now in a loving relationship with his former archenemy. Snape remained Snape, of course; he was as strict and quick-tempered as ever; his sarcasm didn't lose its bite, and he still favoured his own students, though to a lesser degree. He remained very exigent and exacting. However, his cynicism and bitterness began to retreat under Harry's influence. Sometimes, he would even smile without reason during a Potions Lesson and touch his chain – when he thought no one was watching. Harry often teased Snape mercilessly, from naughty verbal prods to tickling, jinxing the bed sheets and threatening to go into his Potions Laboratory and rummage around inside. Snape refused to admit how much he actually enjoyed Harry's teasing and light-hearted side. It wasn't long until Harry and Snape abandoned their rooms to move into enormous shared quarters on the third floor, where the piano-rooms were. Their offices, however, did not change their locations. Snape's days and nights were livelier than ever. The only thing on which they disagreed upon vehemently was the cuckoo clock, which Harry had insisted on fastening to the kitchen wall.

"I don't want that ridiculous thing in here," Snape grumbled.

"But I want it in there."

"What is so fascinating about a stupid bird chirping foolishly every half-hour and hour?"

"Because it's a gift from Hermione," Harry answered tiredly.

"I can't stand it."

"How about making the bird chirp something different instead of 'Cuckoo, cuckoo?'" Harry suggested.

Snape's eyes gleamed.

"That's not a bad idea, love."

With a tricky little charm, he managed to make the bird bark, meow, moo, crow and utter every possible sound excepting the cuckoo-call every time it shot out of its hole. Hermione, on being informed of this modification, was not pleased. Ron, on the other hand, was delighted. Dumbledore, on visiting the couple, was highly amused.

"My, my," he murmured as the bird trumpeted like an elephant at him. "Nice touch, Severus."

Snape's mouth quirked.

The two weeks until Harry's piano trial in the main hall of the karaoke bar elapsed quickly. Harry practised so much that the Music Master began to fall asleep on hearing the same melody over and over again. Snape was forced to bellow the password to gain access to his industrious pupil and lover. Naturally, Snape's presence distracted Harry, and he would get sidetracked from his rehearsals. As he shrewdly pointed out, Snape was doing this intentionally to see how focused he would be on the big day – which found Harry standing in front of the mirror nervously, settling his sober black robes solemnly. He was wearing his emerald ear stud and his hair was carefully gelled. Snape approached him from behind and kissed his neck.

"Very nice. Your fan club is going to increase drastically."

"It already has, ever since you became a member," Harry grinned.

Snape tweaked his ear.

"Behave, Potter."

"Kiss me, Snape."

Snape obeyed most willingly and took Harry's hand, leading him from their spacious quarters.

"Good luck, my boy," Dumbledore said with a decidedly mischievous twinkle in his eye when the couple passed him on their way out.

"You won't be attending, Albus?" Snape asked.

"Alas, I cannot, Severus. Ministry business," he sighed mournfully, "but I am looking forward to a blow by blow account."

He gave them a graceful wave. Harry and Snape left Hogwarts, the former excited, the latter smirking rather smugly.

En_chant_ments was packed. Nervosus could hardly manage at the front door while Madleina tried not to be run over at the back entrance. Harry and Snape were admitted through a side door and led to their lockers by a thrilled Tonks.

"This place is flourishing thanks to both of you," she told them. "Everyone wants to see you, Harry, with Severus."

Harry blushed as he discovered a flyer advertising his concert stuck to a locker. Snape was mentioned as his teacher. Snape, who had organised the flyers, smiled at Harry's embarrassment.

"Come on, love, you should be used to fame after such a long time."

"Won't ever get used to fame," Harry said.

They followed Tonks to the main hall of the karaoke bar and onto the stage. A handsome piano, polished and gleaming, was ready for Harry, including a stool for him to sit on and a chair for Snape in the background near the piano.

The hall was bursting with people. A hush descended when Tonks, her voice magically enhanced, announced Harry's performance. Harry, blushing more than ever, greeted them with a shy nod; Snape had trained him carefully how to behave when approaching the stage and leaving it. People strained forwards in their seats when Harry sat down at the piano. He dared not turn his head to look at Snape, whose face was rather stern. Taking a deep breath, Harry started to play. As soon as he touched the keys, the nervousness fell off from him and another emotion took over: love. Love for the music, love for being in En_chant_ments, love for the people attending something as small and simple as a piece of music played by a complete amateur, love for his friends and Hogwarts – and love, overwhelming love for Severus Snape, who had taught him and who was now sitting near him. Music flowed simultaneously from the instrument and from his heart. The piano seemed to take his voice and emit it in its own clear tones. When the last tune drifted into the room, silence fell. Then deafening applause erupted, even stronger than the first time he had performed in order to get the pass coin. Harry thanked the audience with a bow before nearly stumbling up to Snape. The tall wizard enveloped him in an embrace.

"That was beautiful, love. Perfect. I am so proud of you."

Harry smiled at him, his green eyes filling with tears at Snape's whispered praise.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out at the back of the audience. Tonks frowned slightly.

"Hey! Calm down, guys! This was a superb performance but…Oh my goodness!"

Jets of red light had erupted, Stunning people right and left. Pandemonium reigned. Harry instantly drew out his wand; Snape did the same, his black eyes full of anxiety.

"What's happening, Severus?" Harry said.

"Don't leave my side, Harry," Snape said sharply.

A group of six or seven hooded figures came charging onto the stage; the one in front cast back her hood, revealing streaming black hair. Tonks became deathly pale; for she, like Harry and Snape, recognised the face of the witch leading the gang: it was Bellatrix Lestrange, and next to her was Draco Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at Harry and Snape. Before Tonks could move, she was knocked to the floor by a Stunning hex. Harry darted forward towards her; Snape held him back.

The hall was empty now except for the Death Eater escapees and the two lovers; people had run away through every exit they had been able to find, and others had simply Disapparated.

"So!" Bellatrix rasped, her mouth curving into a cruel smile. Snape and Harry pointed their wands at her; but Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry.

"Try hexing us with or without a wand, you traitor, Snape, and Potter dies," the witch hissed.

Snape blanched. Harry's mouth was very dry. His mind went through all the things he had learnt during the war against Voldemort and the material he had taught his classes. With his eyes, he tried to convey to Snape that his jade disc would absorb an Unforgivable Curse thrice before shattering and thus giving up its protective function, and that Snape's jewellery bore the same magic. To Harry's horror, Snape lowered his wand.

"Remove their wands!" Bellatrix ordered. With a sneer, Malfoy stepped forwards and grabbed their wands, handing them to another Death Eater.

"Now, we're going on a little trip," Bellatrix purred. Some of her followers began to laugh, including Draco Malfoy.

"How did you get in here?" Harry managed to speak at last.

"We Stunned that stupid wizard guarding the door while you were showing off at the piano," Malfoy sneered.

Harry concentrated hard. There were sunflower seeds in his pocket; with a non-verbal spell, he managed to levitate them out of his pocket into his hand. He shifted to make the boards creak and cover the sound of the seeds falling onto the floor as he let them slide out of his grasp. He desperately hoped someone would enter the hall, find them and realise that they were a clue.

"Seize them!" Bellatrix ordered. Malfoy and another hooded Death Eater stepped up to Snape and Harry, twisting their left arms onto their backs and forcing them to stretch out their right ones in order to grasp an empty Butterbeer bottle – a Portkey. Harry turned his head to look at Snape. He saw the courage, love and determination to fight reflected in the black eyes. Just as he was about to touch the Portkey, Harry thought he saw Tonks stir feebly. Then the Portkey bore him and the others away.

With a sudden shock, Harry landed upon firm ground. Looking around, he recognised the place immediately as the cemetery where Voldemort's father lay buried.

Rough hands pulled him and Snape to their feet. The Death Eaters stepped back, forming a small circle around them with Harry and Snape in the middle.

Bellatrix laughed shrilly while Malfoy stared at them contemptuously.

"You've mucked up the pure blood by bonding with Potter," he flung at Snape.

"How dare you insult Harry," Snape said in a lethal voice.

"How touching," Malfoy laughed coldly.

Snape and Harry did not let go of each other's hands.

It did not escape the gaunt witch's eyes.

"Separate them," she ordered. Harry flung his arms protectively around Snape.

"Harry, leave me," Snape whispered to him, his first concern being Harry's safety.

"Don't touch him, don't you dare touch him!" Harry shouted, but a dozen hands dragged him away.

Bellatrix shook back her hair, her hate-distorted face demented in the waning daylight.

"_Crucio_!"

Harry lashed out at his captors without success; Snape was driven back as by a strong blast of wind – but nothing else happened. Bellatrix stared, then screamed wildly:

"_Crucio_!"

Snape, who was trying to get up, stumbled back a second time but showed no signs of pain. Bellatrix looked mad. She walked up to him and seized him by the front of his robes.

"What is that you're wearing around your neck, you filthy traitor?" she spat, "this is what must be protecting you. No longer!"

She yanked at it, but the Unbreakable Charm resisted her efforts.

"Remove it, Malfoy! Undo the clasp – it can only be opened without being broken!" Bellatrix ordered. She and two other Death Eaters pinned Snape's arms onto his back while Malfoy fumbled with the catch.

"It refuses to open, Aunt," he snarled.

"Charmed to be unfastened by either that filthy Potter or the traitor," the witch said. She pointed her wand at Harry.

"Give me your chain, Snape, otherwise…Avada…You know what I mean…"

"Severus, no!" Harry said. Snape looked at him, then back at Bellatrix. He slowly reached behind his neck.

"NO!" Harry repeated.

Snape reluctantly handed the chain to her. She took it, careful to avoid touching his fingers.

"Shall we torture him together, Aunt?" Malfoy drawled lazily.

"First me, then you! Release him!" Bellatrix snarled. Everyone retreated except for the vindictive witch. Harry tried to kick but received a punch to his face. He saw stars and his nose began to bleed.

"_Crucio_!" Bellatrix shouted.

This time, Snape fell on the floor, writhing in excruciating pain. Harry screamed, struggling against his captors.

Malfoy approached Snape and kicked him hard a few times.

"You son of a bitch!" Harry yelled at Draco.

Bellatrix nodded to the one of the other Death Eaters.

"Do with him what you like. Make sure to humiliate him."

"I will," he said and approached Snape.

"Don't worry, Potter, I am simply going to ravish him. Like you've done during several nights, I'm sure."

Harry went deathly pale. The other Death Eaters laughed, including Bellatrix.

"Make sure he bleeds like a pig," she said.

The Death Eater seized a handful of Snape's hair in one fist, yanked back his head and pressed his knee into his back. Snape grimaced silently with pain.

Harry felt Snape's jade disc against his hammering heart. He summoned every ounce of strength left in his exhausted body; the Death Eater grasping him had momentarily relaxed his grip because of his laughter. Harry twisted around and kicked him in the groin with all his force and snatched his wand back. Confusion broke out as Harry aimed Stunning spells around him until only Draco and Bellatrix were remaining.

Draco rushed towards him, wand outstretched. Bellatrix pushed him aside.

"No! I will Duel with the dirty half-blood!"

She and Harry faced each other. Blood streamed out of Harry's nose. He felt like he was going to suffocate.

Jinxes and hexes bounced back and forth between them, Bellatrix trying several times to pronounce an Unforgivable Curse excepting the Killing one. Finally, hindered by pain and the blood which made breathing difficult, Harry stumbled. His wand flew out of his hand.

"Baby Potter, your hour has come," Bellatrix cackled triumphantly. Malfoy began to whoop with joy.

"But before I terminate your worthless life…a bit of entertainment for myself and my nephew. _Crucio_!"

The curse was deflected by the pendant Harry was wearing; it had escaped Bellatrix's notice since it was hidden underneath his robes. The curse bounced back to Bellatrix, who ducked – but she wasn't fast enough. She keeled over and hit her head against a tombstone, which resulted in her losing consciousness. Draco Malfoy instantly drew a knife out of his robes and stabbed Snape in the chest. Harry's cry of anguish echoed through the cemetery. He stumbled to his feet and grappled with Malfoy, seizing the wrist of the hand which held the knife. Malfoy's other hand fastened around his throat and squeezed. Harry choked and retched. Somehow or the other, he managed to knee Malfoy in the abdomen. He sank onto the floor with a howl of pain. Harry Stupefied him non-verbally, his throat a sea of pain. A moan from Snape on the floor made him throw off his exhaustion.

"Severus!" he screamed, the sweat stinging his eyes. He tasted a drop of blood and wiped his sleeve across his bleeding nose. He flung himself next to him, taking his hand. Snape's eyelids flickered.

"I am dying, love," he said softly, looking steadily at Harry. He gently chafed Harry's fingers.

"No!" Harry choked out. "No! I love you!"

"We will see each other again, love. Promise me that you will be happy, Harry. That you will fall in love again…"

"Severus, don't go! Please don't go!"

"Harry…Thank you for enabling me to enjoy my life. I learnt to value it through you. It was a brief time, and you made it very special. Farewell, my love. I love you."

"NOOO! SEVERUS! BELOVED!"

Harry pressed his cheek against Snape's neck, sobbing and screaming wildly, holding the thin body in a tight embrace.

---


	31. Chapter 31: Beloved

**CHAPTER 31**

Trembling and sobbing, Harry opened Snape's robes to examine the wound and staunch the flow of blood. He looked at Snape's face. It was ashen. Frantically, Harry felt for his pulse. It was faint. Too faint.

"Severus…"

No answer. Harry slipped his hand into Snape's. The fingers twitched in response, trying to curl around his.

"Severus, no, don't go away, please don't…Severus…I love you, I love you so…"

The black eyes looked at him intently before closing, and the fingers became limp.

With another scream of grief, Harry pressed his face against his lover's chest, his tears falling into the wound. While he wept bitterly, mourning Snape as dead, he noticed something odd. His tears had a pearly shimmer to them. They reminded him of something…of…phoenix tears…healing tears. Startled, he looked at the wound. But it had gone – or rather, what was remaining of it was disappearing altogether. Snape's head began to turn slowly from side to side. His chest heaved as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. Then his full black eyes opened slowly. Harry gasped.

"Severus…Beloved…"

Snape blinked a few times.

"Harry? What is happening to me?"

He touched his chest.

"But…Where…Malfoy had a knife…"

"I cried and it…went away…The tears…Severus…"

"Harry! Severus!" A deep familiar voice exclaimed. It was Dumbledore; he knelt down next to them, drawing out his wand and tapping Harry's nose. It stopped bleeding at once.

"Tonks alerted me as soon as she had recovered – she saw you and Severus being taken by Bellatrix Lestrange and her followers. I found your sunflower seeds. Very tricky charm, Harry, to make them register an echo of where you had been taken."

Harry was too much in shock to register what Dumbledore was saying to him.

"One of them wanted to…rape Severus," Harry whispered, still shedding those mysterious shimmering tears. He was shivering from head to foot. Dumbledore touched his cheek briefly in a fatherly manner. He looked at Snape, who was gazing at him wonderingly.

"I remember what happened…I remember something falling into my wounds and the pain disappearing, Albus…" The black eyes shifted to Harry's face. "Your tears."

Harry nodded, suppressing a sniff.

Dumbledore smiled and handed Harry's necklace back to Snape, who immediately put it on again.

"It fell out of Bellatrix's robes," Dumbledore said.

"When…when she realised that it was protecting him, she made him remove it by threatening to kill me, and I tried to tell him to keep it on, that I wanted to die if only he could live, that-"

"Harry," Snape said softly, trying to sit up. Harry put his arm around his shoulders, supporting him.

"I thought only phoenix tears could heal," Snape added, his voice full of astonishment.

"A very rare phenomenon, Severus, which shows us never to underestimate the power of love – a love as strong, deep and pure as Harry's love for you."

Harry looked up. His cheeks were wet.

"Yes, Harry. You healed him with your love. That is how Fawkes healed you. With love. However, whereas he can heal many, you can only heal the one whose soul you share. Not many wizards and witches can do that, even if their souls are as joined as yours and Severus's. But you did. You are both extraordinary wizards and extraordinary people, my dear boys."

"Severus," Harry breathed. He held out his hands, and Snape took them. Harry pulled him to his feet and into a passionate embrace.

"Yes. Severus," Dumbledore smiled. "The man you chose as your love and soulmate. Love, Harry, has its own unpredictable potent magic."

Snape took Harry's face in his hands.

"Harry…" his voice faltered.

"Don't ever leave me again, Severus. Don't even try," Harry whispered hoarsely. "Why, you're crying, too…"

"I love you, Harry. I love you very much."

While they were holding each other's faces and whispering passionately, several Ministry workers, pompously led by Fudge, seized Bellatrix Lestrange and her cursing supporters, including a hissing Draco Malfoy. A Dementor floated behind them. Fudge ordered the latter to be led away separately while Bellatrix remained behind with two Ministry workers and the Dementor. One of the wizards snapped her wand in half. Malfoy shook his fist at Harry and Snape, spitting insults at them as he was dragged off.

"Lifelong sentence in Azkaban for him," Fudge said happily, "and a Dementor's Kiss for this murderess on the very spot!"

He waved a casual hand in Bellatrix's direction. She blanched and shook her head.

Snape's face became rigid and Harry clenched his teeth compulsively. Apart from the fact that Dementors were what Harry feared the most, it was known that to witness a Dementor's Kiss was a horrible thing.

"Cornelius," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Dumbledore. Always popping up at odd times, eh?" Fudge said in a rude tone.

"Apart from the baffling fact that it was I who notified you and your Aurors to come here, Cornelius, you may want to listen to me. I think Azkaban is a better punishment then what you are about to do now. That, and a trial beforehand."

"Dumbledore, this is a criminal and murderess! You-know-who's right-hand person! Why waste time on a trial and cell space in Azkaban for this creature?"

"I know who she was and what she is, Cornelius. Tell me. How can she think about what she has done if her soul is sucked out?"

"Think! Who gives a Knut about that?" Fudge guffawed.

Bellatrix began to scream, curses and insults leaving her lips.

"You foul traitor, Snape!" she shrieked, shaking her fist at him, "and you, you filthy piece of vermin, Potter! And you, Dumbledore, you lover of Muggle muck and impure blood!"

Fudge unperturbedly signalled the Dementor to come closer. The wizards who were gripping Bellatrix's arms stepped back and drew an electric-blue circle around her with their wands to prevent her from escaping. Her screams were terrifying as the Dementor approached. Fudge did not bat an eye.

"Voldemort! Voldemort! Do you hear me, my lord? See your faithful servant!" she howled dementedly, alternating between maniacal laughter and shrieks of fear.

Harry started to shiver; the proximity of the Dementor was drawing the warmth from everything.

"Cornelius, think again!" Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with anger and disappointment.

"I am the Minister over here, Dumbledore. Mind your own business," Fudge snarled, watching the struggling witch and the Dementor with a repulsively morbid fascination.

Snape turned to Harry and put his arms around him, gently pressing Harry's head against his chest.

"Don't look now," he said, his back towards the inhuman scene behind him. Harry hugged Snape firmly, squeezing his eyes shut as the screams and insane laughter reached an ear-splitting volume and then suddenly died away after a minute or two. Dumbledore, too, did not watch, keeping his gaze on Harry and Snape instead, on the picture of their love instead of on the image of hate and revenge. Fudge didn't move until it was all over. Then a group of Ministry workers came forward, controlling the Dementor with Patronuses and taking a limp zombie-like Bellatrix with them, her eyes staring without focus ahead of her, her hair tangled.

Harry and Snape remained together in an embrace until Dumbledore gently gripped Snape's shoulder.

The two men drew apart, their hands still clasped.

Dumbledore looked at them sadly.

"When I was thirteen, I thought that there were criminals who deserved to undergo the Dementor's…kiss. But that…that was a crime for a crime," Harry said hoarsely.

"It's like that everywhere, Harry," Dumbledore told him, and Snape nodded in agreement, squeezing Harry's hand reassuringly.

"On the other hand," Dumbledore continued, "looking at how far you two have come, it is safe to assume that there is still hope for the world."

Harry and Snape smiled and proceeded to drown into each other's eyes.

Fudge approached them.

"So! It's done! Our best catch yet!" he burst out proudly.

"Yes. Your best catch yet, Cornelius," Dumbledore repeated ironically. "Come, my boys. Let's go."

Snape lingered to kiss Harry on the forehead before following the Headmaster with his hand in his lover's.

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A/N: One more chapter to go. And another Snarry story to come! More information in Chapter 32.


	32. Chapter 32: Scenes for the Epilogue

**CHAPTER 32**

A/N: I am finished with this story…but not with Snarry! The next story is already waiting in the wings and is called BEYOND WORDS (the first chapter will be up this very week). Plot: during the final battle, Voldemort curses Harry as he dies: Harry loses the ability to speak and becomes mute. Dumbledore assigns none other than a very reluctant Severus Snape to teach Harry how to overcome this obstacle by means of non-verbal spells, sign language, iron discipline and music. Soon, the two find themselves drawn to each other…even more passionate and sensual than CRASH BOOM BANG.

I thank each and every one of you most warmly for your reviews and hope to see you around for BEYOND WORDS! I hope you had as much fun reading this story as I had writing it! About this chapter: it isn't really a chapter, rather a compilation of a few scenes which serve as the epilogue after Harry heals Snape; I thought they were way too sappy to add to the previous chapter or turn into a coherent separate chapter.

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**Right after Harry and Snape come back from the showdown with Bellatrix**

Back at Hogwarts, Harry and Snape were sent to the hospital wing by Dumbledore, where their bruises and cuts were examined by the anxious matron, who also looked at Snape's chest, where he had been stabbed – but there was only a tiny curved scar. She released them with plenty of chocolate slabs and some ointment for their bruises.

In their quarters, Snape drew Harry close to him.

"I owed your father my life. I felt hate. Now I owe you my life, and what I feel is more love than I can possibly describe."

"Severus-"

"Hush, love. Hold me."

Harry hugged him tightly.

"I thought that I had lost you…"

"And I thought I had lost _you_."

-

**Harry proposes to Snape  
**

Harry sidled up to him as he opened the box. Snape gazed at the contents for a long time; then he said slowly:

"Harry..."

Harry simply looked at him calmly, but with a certain expectancy in his green eyes.

"Harry…Are you sure you want this?"

"I am, Severus, if you want this, too."

"People will be negative about this."

"And they can't change the fact that I love you, and only you," Harry said softly, taking Snape's hand and leaning his cheek lightly against his fingers.

"It's yes, Harry James Potter. I love you. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine."

-

**After the wedding invitations have been sent out: reactions from McGonagall and Dumbledore**

Dumbledore smiled benignly at Minerva McGonagall.

"Yes, yes, I believe so. Did you also receive the invitation just now?"

McGonagall shook her head.

"I still have difficulties believing this," she said.

"Oh, I think it's one of the best events of the century," Dumbledore beamed. "Ginger toffee, Minerva?"

"Thank you – I think I need one for fortification."

"Now, Minerva, Harry and Severus have been a devoted couple for quite some time so far."

"Not even for a year! They're rushing into this."

"I think they've waited long enough," Dumbledore observed happily, "after all, they have known each other for more than eight years."

"Known?" McGonagall coughed sceptically.

-

**The ceremony itself**

The two wizards were married in a quiet ceremony at Hogsmeade. The celebration, which was held at Hogwarts after the wedding, was an equally calm do, with their closest friends and most of the Order of the Phoenix attending. The only minor but comical disruptions were caused by the Weasley twins. Ron looked incredulous throughout the occasion. Nor was he the only one. Hermione, on the other hand, was pleased.

"Look at it this way, Ron. Harry can catch up on Potions from Snape now," she observed practically.

It did nothing to improve the expression on Ron's face.

"Thank goodness Harry has not got any siblings. Who'd want that – I mean, Snape as a brother-in-law? They would be compelled to act rather lawlessly towards him."

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione said tersely.

"And just think of the wedding night…Ugh, with that creature…! Poor Harry…Better notify the Aurors."

"RON!" Hermione hissed, digging her elbow into his ribs, "Stop being so rude and vulgar. For Harry's and for Snape's sakes."

Lupin and Hagrid were smiling throughout the occasion, and Dumbledore, naturally, was beaming.

-

**After the wedding**

Snape was looking rather tired from the whole ceremony; but he was not too tired to show Harry in a variety of seductive ways that he was his for that night and for all the nights and days to follow.

"Come here, you recalcitrant brat," he whispered fondly into his new husband's ear.

"Only if you come here, sarcastic prat," Harry quipped, stroking the empty space next to him in bed.

Snape raised a haughty eyebrow, but the expression in his eyes was full of love for the young man who had once been his enemy.

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**FIN**


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